Fire and Steel
by Kojiokida2
Summary: A new invasion is mounted although this time the invaders arn't Mehrunes Dagon's Daedra. The missing god has returned and his legions are marching. An age of legendary heroes has begun. SMALL chapter update
1. Prologue

(By now I probably have a reputation of never finishing any elder scrolls story I start on.

It'll be different this time I swear. You know I'm good for it! Besides when I wrote them my knowledge of Tamriel Lore was incomplete. Oblivion filled in the gaps.)

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The Tsaesci were proud of being one of the strongest cultures and empires on the continent of Akavir, their only real rivals being the Ka Po' Tun. Their cities stood tall and proud, a symbol of their domination over their lands and as a sign of superiority to the Goblin slaves. Their armies were near invincible in combat and for some time they had been building up their military force in preparation of finishing their vendetta against the land to the west, the fair Tamriel.

What came to them instead was a massacre.

On their own shores.

The ships appeared in the skies above their cities at dawns light and the attacks came within the hour, strange creatures falling down from the flying vessels above to crash onto the ground breaking buildings where they dropped.

Beings made completely out of metal, articulated machines that moved like living creatures and literally stomped on any resistance.

The snake men desperately tried to defend themselves but their swords, arrows and daggers did not even faze these invaders and within a single day their grand empire was burning. These strikes had been planned, maliciously, down to the last detail. The Snakemen and their goblin foot soldiers died where they stood. Even hatchlings were left rotting in the streets as these mechanical destroyers marched.

Their ships sank in their own harbours and the siege weapons crushed underfoot.

Force to flee, whatever remained of the Tsaesci army ran into the forests desperately seeking sanctuary.

The invaders apparently were not satisfied with the victory. They wanted blood.

Their mechanical servants set the trees ablaze in a flash of light that rocketed from their arms, giant clouds of smoke bellowing up into the sky as they forced the hiding serpents out and as they tried to flee crushed them underfoot like earthworms. The screams and cries of the Tsaesci as they died were horrific to hear.

One of the Tsaesci slithered through the undergrowth, extremely out of breath and covered in bruises and cuts. A serious wound had been dealt to his side as a deep gash down ran across his flesh. The light from the fires casting long shadows over him, hiding his golden form amongst the bushes as the steal giants wandered along nearby. Lights from the top of their heads scanned the ground, searching for any stragglers. The snakeman forced himself to hold his breath, desperately trying not to give himself away.

The smell of burning flesh from his comrades was thick in his nostrils, along with the scent of spilt blood quickly mixing with wet earth and smoke.

The light passed over him, shafts of it lancing through the gaps in the undergrowth.

Slowly the light began to move on, but froze when it passed over the tip of his tail jutting out from underneath.

With the loud groaning of turning gears, the metal behemoth pushed itself through the trees as it moved forward. Cursing loudly the Tsaesci made a break for it; sliding quickly down a grove in an attempt to loose the giant.

It kept coming after him, the foliage and trees no obstacle to its movement. It kept going; a merciless' pursuer.

Tired, frightened and injured the Tsaesci found himself slowing until finally he stopped completely in a clearing. Within moment the tress broke open the bi-pedal metallic walker lumbered out. It stood for a moment at the edge of the clearing itself before moving slowly forward, the ground shaking underneath each massive footstep. The strange torchlight from the top of its head falling down the exhausted snake's body.

Then it moved up to highlight a pair of feet directly next to the Tsaesci's nose. The snake looked up.

Standing there was an elf, short but with golden skin like an altmer. His jet snow white and long, tied back into a ponytail behind him. His hands were placed on his hips in fists and Most of his body was hidden the shadows cast by the fires so his face was obscured and the Tsaesci was too tired to note details.

"Neravar…" The towering mechanical beast seemed to hiss as two jets of steam shot out from the machinery on its back. The elf scowled and stepped forward, reaching behind him to draw two curved swords in each hand out of scabbards strapped across his bare back.

"I recognise you." It said. "Even with that armour I recognise your kind." More steam vented itself from the machine and it knelt down onto one knee. The massive steal chest plate across its front pealed back like the petals of a flower, revealing a collection of gears and pipes that vented even more steam. These slid aside to show that inside was a throne of some kind and seated upon it was a body. Dead white and thin like a corpse but the eyes alive with anger and rage. Thin wires fed from the machine into the sky of the thin arms, infesting through the flesh like worms. "But even so I… a fate like this…" The elf continued. "Was this how you were able to survive?"

"Only those most injured." Came the reply, but not from the lips of the body. It seemed as if the machine itself were speaking. "Those too damaged for rejuvenation are now on permanent life support." The elf scowled and stepped closer. "This purgatorial existence is what you damned more of my race than can be counted."

"And yet here you are. If you feel so much revolution for this life than why are you doing this?"

"The pursuit of justice."

The armour around the metallic body slid back into place concealing the corpse within from view. The machine rose back up onto its long legs. And the trees broke apart as three more colossal beats stomped out into the clearing, the four of them forming a circle around the exhausted snake and the elf.

"I'm warning you." The elf stated. "Try it and you **_will_** die." The two curved scimitar swords in his grasp sparked and began burning, one with fire and the other with lightning.

"No Neravar. Death is not for us." The machines all stated as one as their arms protected out from their bodies and moved to face the elf. "Only for you." The fire light shot forward meaning to burn the elf alive, but a second before it struck it crossed the two swords in front of himself forming a barrier. The light struck him and then rebounded, flying back to the machines.

It struck them like lightning, tearing out their insides and burning what lay within. All four swayed like drunkards before toppling over and crashing to the ground. The machines caught fire as they fell and lay there silently burning. Searchlights from above cast themselves down onto the clearing as the form of one of the invaders colossal flying ships began crossing the sky's overhead.

"Help me…" The Tsaesci called out, reaching up towards the elf. "Help me please." The elf glanced back over his shoulder at him for a moment, then up at the ship as it crossed over them with its light highlighting the entire clearing. Muttering something under its breath, the elf took hold of the snake man and pulled the injured creature up onto his shoulders.

A long succession of fire light came flying down from the ship and as it struck the forest the trees burst into flames.

The elf burst into a run as the fire behind him exploded through the forest, incinerating anything in its path. The elf ran with trained agility and jumped across rocks and fallen trees with acrobatic grace, his abilities proving the only thing keeping him ahead as the fire consumed more and more trees.

He stopped as he came to the edge of a cliff, a sheer one hundred foot drop from the top to the canyon below. The fire behind them continued, its roar growing louder as it soured after them. The elf glanced back just in time to see the ship rise up high above them and more light fire streamed down from its hull, the fire ball following them hurrying its pace until it was nearly on top of them.

Faced with a lack of option, the Elf backed up a short distance before running at the edge and leaping off it. The trees exploded after him a moment later and the entire cliff top was engulfed in fire.

The entire empire of the Tsaesci was exterminated within a single day and the survivors scattered into the wilderness of Akavir. The invaders did not pursue them too far inland. They did not wish to provoke the Ka Po' Tun or even Tosh Raka himself, at least not yet. They had other concerns and now they land on which to build, base far away from their enemies.

One by one the flying vessels landed amongst the rubble and landing struts were deployed, large metallic mesh ramps stretching out from the hulls until they touched the ground. Out of them came a marching army, striding forward to secure their new land. The ground shook in resonance to their in time marching, the sunlight gleaming off their polished bronze armour.

"This is a great day." Their leader declared, raising his sword high in the air before those assembled before him. "Can you feel that brothers? The light of Nirn's sun on your back? Or the fresh breeze in the air?" The army before him roared in agreement, lifting their own weapons high. "Our return is joyous enough, but we have cause for added celebration.

This is the day we begin our campaign of justice. The day where the evil that sent us beyond Oblivion itself is destroyed forever and our place in the sun is eternally left unchallenged." He smiled almost sadistically. "What say you?"

The army roared and lifting their swords, battle axes and cross bows high they declared almost in one voice…

"Death to the Houses, Destruction to Resdayn, Oblivion to the Chimer!"

The Dark Dragon observed and was pleased with what it saw.


	2. Chapter 1

It was raining.

The sound of the heavy pellets striking the ground and canopy of leaves above was the traveller's constant companion as she trudged further south.

She could not remember when it had started raining.

Only that it was raining both around her and inside her heart.

And her heart was heavy with so much water.

Some time ago she had passed the border out of Cyrodiil and into Black Marsh and travelling on foot she had only penetrated a few miles into the dense forest.

Soon her feet began to sink into the ground as she neared the land that could truly be defined as a swamp. The air thick with flesh eating insects and an overpowering stench. No settlements or towns around for miles in any direction. Nothing but wilderness; an endless tangled mess of swamp trees, creepers and shrubs.

There she stopped and climbed onto a rocky outcrop that stuck out of the ground and waited there, huddling into the crevice holding the furs of her armour closer to herself. Long strands of matted jet black, but still thin, hair clung to the side of her face and across her shoulders.

Her half open green eyes rimmed with the reddened outlines that spoke of tears and filled with pain blinked to clear out the rain.

Armed with nothing by a dull sword she had wandered here, without speaking a word to anyone, without picking up any provisions at all.

Her body was tired, hungry and thirsty but she herself did not care.

Nothing could reunite her with her other half, not even the embrace of death itself.

She had lost track of how long had past since Ocoto had proclaimed her the champion of Cyrodiil and crowds cheered her name. They had all taken her to be some kind of messiah, the avatar of the Dragon blood and praised her as a hero.

All of that had meant nothing.

If she was half the hero they thought her to be she could have done something to save him.

The one man she had ever given her heart to was not beyond her reach forever more.

He was gone, and with him he had taken her heart. She felt empty, a shell devoid of emotion.

Finally the pull of fatigue was too much for her to resist.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she was gone.

Floating free it seemed and the burden lifted was not enough to comfort her. Whether this was sleep or death mattered very little.

"You poor child." A voice in the ether whispered to her and suddenly she felt a source of compassion float near to her, tugging her down from that state of emptiness, sharing her pain.

Sensation returned and she opened her eyes. "You loved him very much didn't you?" Staring up into the eyes of a woman with exceptional beauty, she found all she could do was nod once. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around her stomach, pulling her into a hug from behind.

It was like the embrace of a mother and she took comfort in it, free tears falling from her eyes. "To be left behind while he goes on. The pain of mortals is too much to bear sometimes."

"Where am I?" She asked, glancing out around her and these new surroundings. A garden, with the sun above shining with a cloud to obscure greeted. Trees for shade, bushes, vines and creepers with an abundance of fresh fruit hanging from them. It carried on as far as the eye could see.

There was peace here. A serenity that penetrated her being and for the first time in days calm filled her soul.

"Oblivion." Came the reply whispered to her ear. "Your body rests on Nirn and your soul has come here seeking comfort. Oh my child, forgive me for leaving you alone this long." Memories of Oblivion itself surfaced and they were quite different from the green expansive garden before her, a paradise they could gaze out across from the top of this grassy hill. She recalled nothing but a wasteland of dust, ruin and liquid fire. Whatever buildings stood where nightmares of mesh and metal spikes, blood from victims squeezed across the floor like decorative paint.

"I have seen Oblivion before." She sighed, unable to find must strength to be enthusiastic. The woman holding her shook her head.

"No, you have only visited the one realm." She said softly. "Oblivion is like Tamriel, it has many provinces and the only place you visited was the realm of Mehrunes Dagon. As the prince of Destruction, he prefers to model his domain to mirror his own nature." The woman gazed out across the never ending expanse of the garden and smiled. "This is my realm and it looks how I deem it should look."

"So are you a Daedra?" At this moment, she did not care whether or not she was in the arms of some demon from the outer realms. She would welcome a claw thrust through her heart at this moment.

"I am Azura." The woman looked directly at her and her features became clear; Dumner in appearance, with darkened ashen skin and blood eyes. Her hair was as red as her eyes and short, cut neatly halfway down her slender neck. Her dress was pure white, embezzled with blue trails over her shoulders and down her perfect figure. "It is all right Mai. You are safe. None of the minions of the other princes may harm you here, I would not let them my child."

"I almost wish they would." The girl replied. "The man I loved is how a lifeless hunk of stone. I have nothing left to carry on for."

"You really did love the last Septim very much." Azura sighed. Fresh tears poured down Mai's face. "You could have been his empress."

"I loved the man, not the emperor. I loved the soul behind the title!" She continued to weep and Azura let her, simply holding her tight and letting waves of understanding and compassion pour out from her.

"I understand little one. Believe me I do. But you must be strong."

"Why?"

"Because you are the champion of Cyrodiil." That title felt like a rock being smashed against her heart. It was a label branded onto her in the highest point of her grief. All thought her a hero, when in fact the true hero stood before them as a stone dragon. "And they will be coming soon, a marching army of metal."

Before her eyes Mai watched a vision unfold. An army, the likes of which she had never beheld before advanced from the source of the rising sun. Millions of soldiers, gleaming like bronze moving forward and moved down anything that was put in their way. Colossal siege engines of metal moved behind them, walking forward on mechanical legs. And looming behind them, watching as a new order rose above the ashes of the old, was a dark shadow with stretched out wings; fire burning between its fangs. Just as suddenly ass the vision came it vanished.

An object was slipped into her hand and Mai held it up. It was a gemstone, shaped like a six pointed star and cut perfectly to resemble it. It shone in the light of a sun and around it was a song, a beautiful melody that echoed out across the canopy and out into the infinity of this realm. "My star belongs to you now. Its light is bound to your soul and your soul to its light. It will guide you through the coming darkness that will leave the face of your world changed forever."

"Why?"

"Because it must." Azura's face bore an expression of panged grief. "Another of my children fights peril in a distant land and he will require aid before too long.

Even the Daedra princes will be shaken by the coming storm. Please, be strong and ride this storm out."

Gently those comforting arms released her and Mai felt herself floating once more as the garden around her slipped away. "You have suffered much my daughter. Remember now and forever that I will not abandon you again. I will not leave you to suffer alone. You have a family and soon you will be with them."

It was then she awoke, the constant wet dripping of water from the trees above the first sensation she had.

The taste of the world was extremely bitter and was only made tolerable by the jewel she found resting in the palm of her clenched fist.

"Family…" She sighed into the air as her breath came out white.

* * *

**Loredas, Rain's Hand 15th. 4E, 06**

**The Imperial** **City:**

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Ralphin did not flinch at the touch of the cold.

He did not fear the encroaching darkness around him.

He welcomed both for they were sensations of waking, of remembering ones of existence. Slowly he rose out of the coffin and sat there, waiting for full consciousness to return as the sun above his sanctuary finally set below the horizon. Once the night truly began he hoisted his body out and stood on the crypt floor, taking in a breath of the musty air around him.

His red eyes grew could see in this utter darkness and slowly at first he pushed his way past the empty coffins laid out on top the tombs towards the flight of stairs that lead up towards the rooms above.

His body still stiff from its hibernation he tested his muscles and flexed himself, stretching out to give himself needed exercise. Once he reached a level of mobility suitable he started up the stairs. Halfway up, Ralphin past a stone shelf engraved into the wall with a clay urn stood inside. Within the urn was the shirt and shoes he had placed there the night before. These he slipped on and once he felt more presentable he carried on.

The door to the tomb was locked as usual and above it on strings hung several gloves of garlic.

Few people actually realized that garlic had little to no effect on a vampire. Ralphin had placed it there, mostly for show. Few hunters, even the experienced ones, would suspect one of his kind would dwell so close to a substance supposedly poisonous to a vampire. It gave him good cover.

He gestured towards the door and it magically unlocked itself. He pushed it open a crack and peered outside. He saw no one in the stone corridor beyond and could sense no beating hearts within the immediate vicinity. Slowly he slid out and locked the door behind him with another spell.

It would no do well for someone to find the crypt door open and start asking questions.

The catacombs beneath the chapel's provided adequate protection from the light of day. The members of his clan thought him mad to seek refuge there, in the haven of an order pledged to hunt them to extinction. While the arrangement seemed suicidal, it had kept Ralphin safe for more than fifty years.

"Awake again?" The priest waiting at the alter asked as he emerged out into the chapels main area. The pews were empty as usual and brief starlight barley filtered in through the stained glass windows that lined the walls. The only really illumination came from the many candles left around the alter itself.

"Should I not be?" Ralphin asked with intended sarcasm. "I'm due somewhere for an important meeting tonight and I can't really be late." The priest, a breton in his mid thirties managed a short frown. "What is the time?"

"Eight." The vampire glanced out the window. The faint glow of the red larger moon was only beginning to pass across the sky, barely illuminating the image of Akatosh in the glass.

"Night has come early today." He muttered with a smile. "That is most gratifying." He bent down and reached underneath one of the pews. He pulled out a locked chest and the lock itself disengaged with a whispered spell. Ralphin pushed the lid open and pulled out his other belonging; a pair of leather skin boots and gloves, along with several silver daggers and a long Nordic claymore that only just fit inside. Underneath these items were a gentlemen's jacket, a few gold coins and a black leather belt.

"I would advise against heading out into the streets this night." The priest warned him as he pulled his boots on over the silk shoes. "The atmosphere in the city is tense."

"I could taste that in the air the moment I awoke." Ralphin replied with a wiry smile, tapping his foot down. "The flavour has been building for some time. It has only just become detectable by the masses." He pushed his hair back and pulled down the jacket over the shirt. "This is a meeting I can not afford to miss. My fellows would be most put out with me if I did." Ralphin glanced the priest over. The old man's expression gave away his worried thoughts. "Something bothering you?"

"Am I that readable?" The priest asked.

"Of course you are. I wouldn't be taking residence in your crypts if you weren't." The Breton did not look amused by that statement.

"The political atmosphere has taken a turn for the worst." He stated after a moment of contemplation. "The clans in Skyrim have made their intention to break from the empire known to the Elder Council this morning. The same goes for the Bosmer in Valenwood. Some kind of religious controversy about the return of the gods Ysmir and Y'ffre."

The vampire laughed.

"Ah, the beginning of the end." He stated, coupling his belt and placing his gold into the canvas purse at his waste. The priest looked horrified at the casual way Ralphin shrugged it off. "Come now you of all people, Balion, should not that nothing last's forever, least of all empires." The priest looked like he really wanted to argue. "The empires of man have had their time, three of them in fact. This time, I get the sinking suspicion that when this one finally goes, its going to be long time before another one comes along." He laid a hand on the Breton's shoulder. "Don't get so upset, the empire may wither but I doubt the faith of the Nine Divines is going to follow suite, at least for now." That seemed to make Balion feel better and he smiled.

Ralphin felt a familiar tingling feet in the bottom of his stomach, the scouts of the hunger nibbling at him. "And now, if you excuse me I have business elsewhere." He made towards the large wooden door at the front of the chapel.

"Be careful tonight." Balion warned him. "The current state means people are less inclined to obey the law than usual." Ralphin nodded once and waved off, pushing his way outside into the night air.

There was little point for the Elder Council to conceal the fact that with the death of Martin Septim, so many people had already seen it happen. The legendary dragon line had been destroyed. There would be no new emperors.

Upon reflection Ralphin theorized that the third era had been an age of heroes, their tales told in the backs of taverns and pubs across Tamriel.

Firstly there had been the events in the Battlespire, then the defeat of Jagar Tharn and the liberation of Uriel Septim by the Eternal Champion from Mehrunes Dagon's Oblivion Realm; shortly after which had come the Neravarine to the shores of Vvardenfell and finally, Martin's now legendary defeat of Mehrunes Dagon himself with the aid of the renowned 'Gate Closer'.

Out of respect for the last Septim, or perhaps because of public pressure, the Elder Council agreed that the final defeat of Dagon marked the end of third era and the beginning of the forth. Discussion within the church was being made as to whether or not Martin merited being made a recognised god with the pantheon, in the same fashion as his ancestor Tiber Septim who came the Divine known as Talos.

Ralphin cared little for that. Those were mortal concerns and he was most certainly not mortal.

Vampire clans existed in every province, each unique to their own territory and from long experience, Ralphin knew that most of them were idiots.

Fools who amateurishly let their hungry control them. This behaviour prompted the development of pesky vampire hunting orders within their territory.

Only a sloppy vampire allowed that to happen.

It was far better to feed of a sleeping victim and let them live unawares of the transaction of blood that had occurred than insight a massacre.

That was how Ralphin and his clan lived their nights. The Imperial City was full of their kind, but as they conducted themselves in a far more civilized manner, never taking life unless absolutely necessary, they remained largely undetected.

In fact many were productive and well respected members of society.

To the casual observer, Ralphin appeared to be nothing more than a Dunmer nobleman out for a night stroll through the streets of the city. He would never be marked as a vampire out choosing pray for his nightly feeding.

Beggars were in abundance in the back alleys, huddled with the tattered canvas blankets that would keep the cold off them for another night. If desperate he would feed off them, but as the hunger as still in its infancy he passed them by in favour of other pray.

The curved line of buildings were alight with lit windows, some of them open to the night air and wafting out came the smell of a woman. Not just any woman either, a Dunmer girl; fresh from the mainland of Morrowind. Newly arrived in the Imperial City today. All this he could tel, simply by the smell of Chitin intermixed with her smell.

She would do just fine.

Sliding into the shadows beside the hotel, Ralphin waited there patiently. If he was to feed it was to be without witnesses'. The loud clanking of chain mail boots from the city watch grew fainter and less people were seen as the night truly began, the stars twinkling into existence above one by one. Finally the woman above reached out and shut her window, the light in her room going off for the night. That had been the signal he had been waiting for.

He crouched before leaping high, jumping far higher than most men could ever dream. His hand found the ledge and swiftly he pulled himself into it and hid there amongst the dark crevices in the stone work, almost invisible from the ground below.

Ralphin counted backwards from one hundred in his head before reaching out and gesturing towards the latch that held the window. The spell went to work and it opened itself, the window swinging out a short way. The vampire navigated the ledge a short way towards it, before flipping himself down and in through the opening.

The room beyond was dark and Ralphin landed without a single noise to indicate his presence. The only light came from the moonlight outside and the soft pale candlelight coming from underneath the door. Lying in the bed in the corner was the woman. Even in the dim light her features were striking. Perfectly oval face and unblemished blue skin, perfectly rounded arms and short cut black hair. Her nightgown was long to her ankles and to Ralphin's delight partly transparent.

Slowly he moved up close until he was practically in bed beside her. His naturally cold body against her naturally warm body provided a contrast of temperature so delightful it sent an involuntary shiver down the vampire's spine.

He was going to enjoy this one.

She did not wake as his arms enclosed around her. Nor she wake as her dress was gently pulled aside from her shoulders. She did not even stir as he kissed her neckline, tracing his way up towards her ear. She moaned once through, perhaps interpreting the touch as some lover from her dreams. Even so she was silent as the fangs bit through her skin and the feeding began.

Ralphin drank deep, the flow of life from one being to another filling him with an almost sexual appetite. It was almost a shame she was asleep, as it was entirely possibly he could secure her cooperation in this transaction. It was clear that even in her slumber she was enjoying it. All the same she looked so peaceful lying there asleep and he did not have the heart to wake her.

Now finished, he let her drop gently back to her pillow and the two teeth marks on her neck began closing almost at once. By the morning the two little nicks would be completely invisible and the only evidence she would have of blood loose would be a very healthy appetite and a bit of light-headedness.

He kissed her gently on the cheek, promising her silently he would return at some point and left by the window shutting and locking it after him.

Now fed, Ralphin's acrobatic skill was greatly increased and he vaulted across from the hotel walls to the rooftops of the building across the street. A mere silhouette in the night sky he was noticed by no one.

The White Gold tower, the Imperial palace itself was of course visible from any part of the city. It stood like a cathedral spire lancing up towards the sky an unthinkable distance. Few had ever been to its summit and those who had save the emperors came back with an intense fear of heights. The Aylieds who constructed it had always tried to be far too grand in the architecture in Ralphin's opinion. Sure it looked impressive, but its shape and sheer size served no practical purpose. As he passed beneath its shadow it came through into the market district of the city.

Ralphin stopped and shuddered; then glanced back the way he had come. There was nothing there. Strangely, he felt as if he could sense somebody watching him; a pair of eyes following his every movement but the rooftops were empty save for him. Passing it off as nothing he turned back

He crouched on a roof overlooking the main street and watched an Imperial solider standing at the corner near the closed shops. He was tired, bobbing his head and muttering to himself in an attempt to keep himself awake. Clearly he was waiting for the night watch to relieve him. He was in the way, standing almost directly in front of the alleyway the vampire needed to reach and Ralphin did not wish to explain to the law what he was doing out so late and in this district.

He would have to wait for the guard to leave before he could move on. Unfortunate he was pressed for time thanks to his detour with the Dunmer mistress and did not wish to waste anymore sitting on a rooftop. Alternatively he could simply kill the guard but that left the consequence of an unexplainable body in the street.

It seems now would be a good a time as any to test his skills in stealth.

He backed up a short way before launching himself off the edge of the roof, sailing silently through the air until he latched onto the wall of a building about ten foot above the guards head.

The guard himself only shuffled his feet trying to keep himself warm against the night cold.

Slowly Ralphin manoeuvred himself around the wall on a stone ledge, his feet making so sound at all as he went.

Just as he reached the turning point where he could safely climb into the alley, another guard came wandering down the street and Ralphin froze in the shadows.

"Report." The man in chain mail began as he approached the half asleep guard.

"All quiet sir." The guard said almost in a blur as he snapped to attention.

"Very well, you're relieved." With a salute, the guard wandered off in the vague direction of the Legion compound with his shoulders heavily slumped. The new guard did not stand idle. He took to his patrol, marching down the street away from Ralphin with the sound of his clanking boots growing fainter. The vampire murdered something under his breath and dropped down to the ground.

The valley way was full of overgrown long grass and bushes, most of it stretching waist high. The beggars loved it as it was something warm they could warp around themselves come winter and it provided shelter from the rain. Ralphin and most of the vampires in his clan liked it because it concealed the entrance to the place they used for meeting places.

Passing underneath a large stone arch, Ralphin knelt down in the grass and felt around. His hands came across a metallic ring and he gave it a sharp tug, pulling up a hidden entrance into the sewer system. It had been overgrowth and overrun by the grass long ago and most had forgotten about it. Ralphin descended inside quickly and shut it after him.

The shaft descended a good twenty feet before coming out into a larger tunnel. The darkness would made passageway impossible to navigate for men, but Ralphin's eyes saw enough to allow him to walk through it without treading in the steady stream of stagnant water that ran along the bottom.

"Am I late?" He asked into the darkness.

"No." Came the reply. "In fact you're not the last to arrive." There was a soft hum and just ahead, a magical orb of light hovered between the fingers of the figure standing outside a small stone passageway built into the wall, bared with a wooden door. Ralphin smiled and approached. The figure there was a member of his clan. An imperial, with short blond army style cut hair and sunken cheeks. He was a mage, clad in a blue robe with a staff strapped across his back. "Go right in and a take a seat. As soon as the full council is present the meeting will begin." Ralphin nodded once and stepped past him and through the door.

The sewer ended adeptly, the brick work and floor falling away as it emptied out into the crumbling Aylied ruins. Since the Imperial city had been built upon the remains of the Aylied civilisation their ruins would frequently interconnect with the sewer system. The same was true for towns and cities all over Tamriel.

Dropping down a short way Ralphin turned a corner and came out into a large chamber. The roof was high and the only illumination came from Welkynd stones placed upon stone pedestals. Chairs had been arranged in a circle around a short stone pit and many of them were already occupied.

"Night hunting to you, blood brother." Ralphin remarked, pulling up a seat. The vampire opposite shot a glance over his shoulder with a hostile expression that melted away when he saw who it was. He was a Redguard with short black hair on top and long at the back tied back into a ponytail. The rich clothes he wore revealed him instantly as a noble, with white silk pants and blue jacket with gold and red silk trimmings.

"Ah Ralphin, I was beginning to think you'd skip this meeting." The Dunmer chuckled and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

"And provoke the wrath of Valgatronix? Oh no, that would not be wise of my at all." The redguard laughed showing his fangs in the soft blue glow of the stones. "Tell me Kalius, how is business?"

"Could not be better my friend." His tone suggested unrivalled glee. "With faith in the Legion diminishing contracts for the Fighters Guildare upbundantand now with the Blackwood company out of the way we're set to become the dominant organisation within Cyrodiil, if not all of Tamriel."

"My those are some high expectations. Certain you're not setting the bar a little too high?" Kalius laughed out load in response.

"The way things have been doing lately I can't set the bar high enough." There was a sudden loud stomping noise and conversation around the small group vanished in an instantly. Standing in the small pit before them was the clans leader, a designated vampire ancient to whom they all wore loyalty. He was a Nord; tall with wide shoulders and long blond hair down to his waist. He had a high forehead with the hairline receding back past his ears almost to the top of his head. Both ears were pierced with long silver rings hanging from the lobes.

The armour he wore was adamantium, scorched or painted black with a long red cape attached by the shoulder pads. A sword was in a scabbard by his side and grasped in one hand was a tall ebony staff.

His name was Valgatronix and while none of them knew exactly how old he was, it was rumoured that he had been amongst some of the first men to settle in Skyrim after fleeing from Atmora.

"We are assembled." He announced. "The meeting has begun." He lifted his staff then tapped it down on the ground repeating the same ominous sound as before. "My clan's men, we are a family that has prospered under the rule of the empire while others withered.

As civilisation spread, so did we until we became the only vampire clan in Cyrodiil. Now, with the impending collapse of the Septim empire in sight we must decide how we must adapt."

"Adapt?" An Orcish vampire repeated on the far side of the pit. "We blend in as we have always done; merge into the population as those of their own." Valgatronix turned to give her a sour glare.

"And how do you imagine we do that with panic and fighting in the streets?" She opened her mouth to continue but the ancient cut her off. "Factions are already flexing their muscles, preparing for the conflict that will determine the balance of power. In the midst of such chaos, no amount of civilized behaviour will be able to hide who and what we are from prying eyes." A low murmur of conversation passed amongst the massed group.

"I take it you speak about the Order of the Virtuous Blood?" Ralphin asked.

"While they are an issue, I believe the true threat may lie in attacks from outside clans." Valgatronix replied. "Our territory encompasses the entire Imperial province; that is enough cause for jealousy and envy amongst those who do not share our success. If the cause of our prosperity is weakened then so are we and any display of weakness is like ringing the dinner bell to some of the more feral vampires."

"Then we must change and adapt with the times." Ralphin continued. "What is your decision, ancient?"

"The decision I have yet to make." He sighed relaxing his shoulders a little. "For the moment at least all that is need from all of us is vigilance. I sense danger may come from the east very soon if my informants give me reliable information about the Berne, Aundene and Quarra clans."

The meeting dragged on for some time and many issues were discussed, such as how to deal with the vampire hunting order that had grown in the city as a direct result of an incident involving a vampire who was sloppy in his nightly feeding. Calling themselves the Order of the Virtuous Blood they were as very bit as secretive and elusive as the vampires they were hunting.

At some point Ralphin found himself detached from the discussions. One of the drawbacks of being civilized was the encroaching infection that was bureaucracy. As far as he was concerned the important issues had already been discussed and all else was simply to extend the meeting to make it seem more important.

Strangely the feeling of being watched by eyes he could not see continued to persist and Ralphin kept looking back over his shoulder expecting to find somebody there. It was becoming an omnipresent feeling that disturbed him to no end.

"Am I boring you Ralphin?" looking back the Dunmer came face to face with Valgatronix, the ancient standing right in front of him with a grim expression on his face. The eyes of the other clan members were on him.

"No sire!" Ralphin began suddenly. "My... my mind was wandering." Valgatronix, did not look impressed.

"Well if you were paying attention you may have heard me state that I need a vampire for an important errand." His lips parted in a sadistic smile. "And you just volunteered." A hand in a metallic gauntlet placed itself firmly on Ralphin's shoulder. "And objections?" The grip tightened ever so slightly.

"No sire." Was the sighed reply as he glanced down at the floor. Valgatronix's smile widened.

"Good. I need you to go east to the city of Mournhold in Morrowind. There you will meet with informants and collect as much information as you can about the eastern clans intentions for us." The orders were explained in more detail later once Ralphin had the opportunity to make travel arrangements and collect a few basic supplies. Basically Ralphin's now assigned task was to reach a tavern in Mournhold called the 'Winged-Guar'. There he would rent a room and wait until a representative from the informants came to meet with him. From them he would learn about the eastern clans and if possible and necessary, perform sabotage to deploy or perhaps even stop their ambitions. He was allowed to take two companions along with him for the journey. Any more than that in a travelling party would arose suspicion.

"Me?" Balion asked looking stunned. "I don't have time to go to Morrowind!"

"Balion, you spend your mornings performing sermons and your evenings at home reading Imperial literature." Ralphin replied with a flat expression placing his hands on his hips when he returned to the chapel at the verge of morning. "You have plenty of time to do anything. Besides, wasn't it you who said Cyrodiil was becoming dangerous? Why not skip town for a short while?" The priest looked desperate for an excuse.

"How am I supposed to explain my absence to the order?"

"Say you're visiting relatives for a while, converting Ashlanders, visiting the Temple in Mournhold for educational purposes. Make something up, be creative." Ralphin removed his jacket, boots and other assorted belongs and placed them inside his wooden chest under the pews. "Nobodies going to care that much. I need you to keep an eye on me during the day and be my eyes and ears on the streets while I'm asleep." He smiled. "Also I thought you could do with a bit of change in your life. A bit of south-eastern sun might do your skin some good."

"How would you know?" Balion asked with a high raised eyebrow. Ralphin laughed and made off towards the stairs leading down towards the catacombs.

"Just have yourself ready to go tomorrow Balion. And bring a sword; you're going to need one in the land of the Dark Elves." He laid his hand on the door to the tomb and as he did, a strange sensation crept over him. A feeling of dislocation, as if his coconsciousness had been moved from his body to some other place.

"You fool many vampire." A soft voice whispered into his mind as he floated in that ether. "Even your own kind. But you can not hide your heart from me." He glanced around; finding that no longer was he standing before the door to his tomb. Instead he was standing in the most beautiful garden he had ever seen. Flowers of all kinds intermixed with tall healthy trees and long wet grass sprouted up everywhere under a bright blue sky. Despite the abundance of sunlight here there was no sun and the light did not scold his skin. It felt warm.

It had been a very long time since he had felt the warm of the light and its touch felt strange and welcoming at the same time. "Your loneliness weighs heavily on you, forever alone. You do not bear eternity well." The voice continued.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"One who loves you, despite what you are." A presence made itself known to him and it engulfed him, but rather than alarm filling him he felt affection coming at him from it. It forced a lump into his throat and restricted emotions out. "Go to the Dumner's city of magic as your master commands. Your sisters and brothers will meet you there." As suddenly as it began the vision ended and Ralphin found himself standing there back in the chapel with his hand resting on the door handle of the tomb.


	3. Chapter 2

**Tirdas, Rain's Hand 18th. 4E, 06**

**The frozen island chain of Solsthiem **

* * *

With the mining colony of Raven Rock left to rot there was little reason for the Fort placed on the main frozen island of Solstheim to exist. As such, with more important things to attend to within the Empire's own body, Fort Frostmoth was promptly and almost enthusiastically and the land returned to the Nordic Skall. Apart from the mining of ebony the Empire had little reason for being in the frozen land and now interest was gone, so where they. About the only Imperial on Solstheim was a single woman, wandering westward through the Histaang forest. The air was cold and the ground underfoot hard and frozen but all she wore was a simple red mages robe and a pair of bear skin boots.

Her hair was long and dark, tied back from her forehead by a blue band pushed by her ears.

Solstheim was a cruel land, cold and unforgiving. Being so close to the Dumner island of Vvardenfell it had been the source of various territorial disputes throughout the ages. Few Dark Elves had actually been here and once those select few saw what it was like, they immediately returned to Morrowind to tell others it was not worth the trouble.

It was not a small island, being twice the size of the Imperial city itself and three times as rugged. While some of the southern coast might be suitable to grow crops but most it, especially the north, was permanently covered with snow. Its northern coast was a glacier and the smaller islands off its eastern coast were just the same.

The woman stopped for a moment, standing perfectly still in the snow. Then she suddenly about faced and raised her slender hand, drawing symbols in the air with two fingers. A ball of magical fire emerged from the ether before her hand and shot forth, crashing into the Riekling snow goblin that had been trying to sneak up on her.

Its cry died in his throat as it was roasted alive. Its animal fur clothes reduced to ashes and its flesh blackened. It stood there for a moment before swaying backwards and landing in the snow; sinking deep into it and vanishing from sight with steam and smoke rising from the body. The woman turned away and carried on without the slightest trace of emotion on her face.

The other Riekling's in their hunting party observed her from a distance and quickly decided amongst themselves that she was not a prey worth pursuing. Instead they simply packed up their weapons and hurried north towards the frozen lake, hoping to catch some Horkers on the ice.

Through the trees the woman discerned a Nord crouched in the snow.

He was a hunter, wrapped in armour made from the pelts of white snow bears in the north of the island. The man was crouched over a recent kill. A boar lay in the snow before him with a large silver arrow lodged deep in its skull. The shot had been an instant kill and now the hunter was in the business of removing the touch hide to get at the pork underneath.

Hearing her footprints in the snow he glanced back. He was wearing the cleared skull of the bear as a helmet, the fur and fat of the creature cured into the armour to avoid rotting. While he appeared to be a man to her eyes, now she had a close look at his face she could see he was little more than a teenager, probably not any older than herself. Strands of chestnut brown hair hung down from underneath the helmet to hang over a pair of sharp blue eyes.

He glanced her over before turning back to his work.

"It's hardly seemly for a woman to be out in this cold dressed that way." He remarked callously and with a hint of frustration in his voice for the difficult task of stripping the meat in the cold. "Especially a soft Imperial."

"I have ways of keeping myself warn." She replied without gaining any hint of emotion on her face. "And I am not as soft as I may appear." The hunter finally removed a slice of flesh and laid it out in the snow to preserve it while he worked on the rest. He wanted to work quickly before the smell attracted wolves.

"I thought all Imperials had left Solstheim." He muttered.

"I am the last here." The woman whispered. "I am Baricus."

"That's a boys name isn't it?" The woman did not reply to that. She simply sat down on a log half jutting out of the snow. The hunter continued his work, removing what meat he could carry and placing it in the snow. Once he had removed what he needed he reached into his armour and began removing pieces of cured skin, as thin as paper and vaguely square shaped. He placed one on the snow and then placed two stripes of meat upon it with some now, then laid another skin over it, then more meat and so until what he had carved he had safely wrapped up with a package which he tied with string made from boars hair.

Without a word or glance in her direction he wandered off, heading directly south west through the trees.

Baricus watched him go, counting silently to fifty in her mind before she rose and followed. The hunter had made more ground than her, moving swiftly through the thick snow at a rate she could not.

When she caught up with him he ignored her still, keeping his concentration fixed on moving through the thick snow.

"What business brought you here?" He asked eventually without looking back. "The ebony isn't worth mining here; I thought you Imperials understood that by now?"

"I care little for ebony." She replied. "For the moment I merely seek a place to shelter for the night from the coming storm." He stopped and stared back her down.

"What storm?" Even before he finished speaking the winds around them picked up, howling angrily in a sudden burst. Wisps of snow began falling from the cloud strewn sky above. It had come down so suddenly it hadn't given him warning by the taste or smell of the air. "By the all-maker…" The hunter stared the woman down, scrutinizing her with sudden interest. "Are you a witch?"

"A mage." She corrected him with a stern voice and an unfriendly sharpness in her eyes. "Witches are Daedra worships. I recognise only the Nine Divines." The hunter pushed his lips together and murmured something inaudible. He had been warned in passing by other Nord's to beware of Witches. It was said they would trick unsuspecting barbarians into being their escorts and then once they were out in the wild would work their magic, robbing their protector blind of his belongings leaving naked and sometimes even magically paralysed.

Baricus did not look like much of a threat, being over a foot smaller than him and much thinner. But still he regarded her with caution.

"You know my name." She continued as the snow began to whirl in the sky. "May I know yours?" The hunter was silent for a moment with his eyes troubled and a frown on his lips.

"Njordr." He stated slowly as if afraid he was letting out some vital secret.

"Are you of the Skall?" The question came out more abruptly than she'd meant it to. There was a sudden troubled look on Njordr's face.

"No… those people don't call me kin." He muttered. "No one does." He turned away and wandered off, moving much more slowly than before. Baricus remained still for a single moment before following. "You may share my cave for the duration of the storm." He told her. "But do not attempt to use magic on me. I have a cross bow and itchy trigger fingers."

Njordr's shelter was not far. He had installed himself in an unused and abandoned Nordic crypt built into the side of a hillock not far from Solstheim's western coast. The entrance was barred by a large flat stone which Njordr almost casually pushed aside.

There was a short pair of interconnecting stone tunnels inside that lead to a large central chamber. There was a hole in the ceiling to the air outside, allowing a short shaft of light to fall down through the darkness. Despite this the interior was surprisingly warm and Njordr discarded some of his armour. Removing his helmet he felt his long hair loose. Even for a Nord his hair was long, unkempt and reaching down fell past his waist.

Baricus glanced around. Apart from a few scattered animal skins to serve as a bed this place was little more than a tomb. Bones, human and animal were scattered around. The human bones were very old but the animal remains were far more recent. Also it seemed Njordr had taken to scavenging items from the Imperial Fort. There were a few spears, swords and a wood cutting axe lay scattered around.

"I thank you for your hospitality." She remarked, placing herself down on the floor and making herself comfortable. "I image you don't get visitors."

"Entertaining guests is a custom of civilization." Njordr replied, placing his prize meat not just from the recent boar but other animals down on a large flat stone that served as something of a table. "And I am a barbarian though and though."

"A typical Nord then?" She asked. Njordr chuckled lightly.

"I hope so." He began moving logs from a small pile of chopped wood into the centre of the chamber just below the hole. These he piled towards and then stacked it full of old pine leaves in the crevices. Over this he placed rusty metallic grate, probably something salvaged from the abandoned fort. He cleaned this with the back of his hand and then began placing his hunted meat upon it in stripes.

Baricus raised her hand and made several gestured at the pile. There was a short flash and instantly it caught ablaze. Njordr looked slightly taken aback, casting a glance up at the woman. For the first time she smiled at him, yet somehow that smile was more unnerving than it was to any calming effect.

Without a word he placed the meat across it and instantly it began to cook.

The howling outside grew worse as the storm pressed on. The shaft leading up to the surface of the hill in the roof above was not perfectly straight and the jagged course prevented any snow or cold winds from entering.

"Tell me... Mage." Njordr began after half an hour. "What makes you brave the cold of Solsthiem?" Baricus had her gaze fixed on the cooking meet and the sudden question caused her to glance up sharply. The intensity of that glare made the Nord hunter slightly apprehensive. There was a strange wildness about those eyes, held back by trained restraints.

"Like you I am a hunter." She replied after a moment of silence as she turned her glare away from him and back to the cooking pork.

"Oh? And what is it that you hunt?" He asked but she did not reply. "I am familiar with most creatures on this island chain. Perhaps I know the beasts?"

"That which I hunt is no natural creature." The Imperial said softly, her gaze now transfixed not on the meat but on the fire that cooked it. The embers reflected in her eyes. "I peruse the Hounds of Hircine." Njordr paused and watched her closely, sudden trepidation on his face.

"Werewolves..." He whispered softly and Baricus nodded only slightly. He frowned and reached for a short metal spear. This he used to skewer some of the roasting meat. Holding it close to his mouth he bit down on it and chewed, wrenching some of the flesh off the spit with his teeth. "That is no ordinary hunt." She remained silent again and eventually Njordr decided not to ask anything more.

The mere fact she pursued the man-beasts was proof enough of either her madness of her desire to die. "You may help yourself to whatever meat you wish." He announced and went back to chewing his own food.

Boar pork was roughlike leather, although the flavor could be improved by salt. Living alone in the wilderness Njordr had not tasted salted pork in some time. Despite being barely twenty he had the skills of any hunter twice his age. He had learned to survive, simply because if he hadn't he would have died long ago.

A hand laid itself on his shoulder and he glanced back. Baricus was holding something towards him in her free hand. It was triangle shaped and yellow and had a strange smell about it that he could not identify.

"Here, for your hospitality." She told him as he took the strange substance.

"What is this?" He asked giving it a sniff.

"Cyrodiil cheese, the best from county Chorrol." Njordr looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. "Its food." Not wanting to seem rude he broke off a small piece and chewed on it. The texture was soft and the flavor far different from anything he had tasted before.

"I er... I thank you." He told her and ate it. Baricus had more food on her. Not much in the way of provisions but enough to accompany the cooking meat and to make a decent meal out of it. Amongst cheeses she had bread, fruit and even a short amount of drink. Wine she said, from vineyards in the south of the Imperial Province. Njordr had some at her insistence.

He was used to strong alcohol that had a kick, such as the Mead served in abundance within any Nord territory. This drink was far too weak for his tastes although the flavor was different enough to make it a pleasant change. Together they managed to eat both her own food and the meat that was cooking.

"Well, if you do not belong to the Skall or Thirk what clan on Solsthiem islands do you herald from?" The Imperial asked as she began to grow curious about his story.

"None." He replied, leaning back against the stone. For some reason he felt rather light-headed. "If I ever had a clan it was too long ago to remember." Baricus watched him closely as he tried to rise but his legs seemed too tired to move.

"No affiliation whatsoever?" She asked.

"No." He yawned. The woman smiled and stood up.

"Then no one will miss you." With a flick of her wrist a throwing dagger almost seemed to appear in her hand. She tossed it down and the blade lanced through his animal skin armour and into the flesh around his left shoulder. Njordr screamed and slumped backwards, wrenching the weapon out of him with blood quickly running down his chest and staining his armour. The wound bubbled and spat as it reacted with the metal the blade was made of. "Silver." She told him without a hint of emotion. "A pure metal that reacts with cursed flesh by searing it like hot coals." Angrily Njordr reached for his spear but his hand missed, slumped to the side loosing all its strength. Fatigue the likes of which he had never known overcame him.

That witch must have poisoned the food which he had gullibly eaten. Down he crashed onto the ground, whatever strength he could summon before now gone. Even his eyes were growing heavy.

Gently Baricus laid her hand on his back while her other hand traced the outline of a recall spell.

Off the eastern coast of Solsthiem just out of sight of the shore a ship was anchored. Its sails were drawn and its flag rolled as the storm rolling off the land lashed at them. The air was cold, the winds harsh and the snow like heavy burdens weighting in any man on deck. The half asleep crewman were brought back to attention as the sign they had been waiting for arrived, a sharp pinnacle of light just above the central deck.

"Quickly, bring up the cage!" The Imperial mage shouted to them as the form of a young man lay on the deck at her feet. The grate to the hold was pried open and a large cage with thick bars was hoisted up by long ropes. Njordr was stripped of the armor covering his chest and a dressing was pressed against the bloody wound on his shoulder before he was quickly placed within the cage and the door locked after him.

Before the drug contained in the consumed food took its full effect, the Nord had just enough time to see Baricus' emotionless face as the cage was lowering back down into the darkness of the hold.

* * *

**Fredas, Rains hand 26th, E4 06;**

Despite slavery now being banned in Morrowind and while publicly backing the decision, House Dres secretly refused to let go of such a profitable business. All that changed for them was that raids down into Black Marsh became more secretive and out of public sight. The Twin Lamps anti-slavery organization had come out into the open in response and pledged to hunt down those who violate the law and take slaves against the ruling both the Empire and the King of Morrowind.

Unfortunately for House Dres, the ruling that slavery was now illegal everywhere in Tamriel gave spirit to the usually defeatist Argonian's of the marshes. Now they had rights and they were not going to give them up without a fight. They began forming defenses for their borders and training themselves into a formidable fighting force that was more than prepared to fight back.

House Dres was finding slave riding more trouble than it was worth all of a sudden.

Much of Black Marsh, or Argonia as its inhabitants preferred to call it, was little more than swamp land. Whatever Imperial settlements were there were on the outer edge or near water sources easily accessible from the coast. The inner most swamps where the sole territory of the Argonians and rumors held that anyone not reptilian would die the moment they stepped deep enough within the marsh.

Mai's wanderings brought her north, heading away from the deadly inner swamps towards the city of StormHold. The evidence of battle seemed to be around every corner. Bodies of Dumner she would occasionally find laying face down at in the swamp being gnawed upon by rats. Their bore armor typical of Morrowind and the icon of House Dres and a few of House Indorial were quickly being consumed by the marsh.

The last of the Tribunal fanatics waging war against the least of their enemies.

Mai ignored the carnage left behind by the conflicts between the slaves and the new Argonian militia and continued on north. She carried on past StormHold and quickly the ground underfoot started to become more firm as they left the swamp.

She had no idea where she was going. All that she was guided by was a vague and unexplainable need to travel north, as if it was important she did so. She did not put much thought on it. Her mind was preoccupied with other things.

The jewel, the star like gemstone, she had some how obtained she still had in his grasp. Its soft glow somehow comforting, yet even so her emotions were mixed together in a tightened mess. Her grief was still there, heightened and unbearable but now it was mixed with a strange longing for comfort that she had never before allowed herself to feel but she could shrug the feeling off like she always had before.

Something was waiting for her in the north.

She thought little of the words of the Daedra prince Azura, for fear dwelling on them in her mind might drive her mad. Her encounters with denizens of Oblivion before had always been violent events were blood was spilled and they had left her unwilling to trust the words of any Daedra.

A half rotted signpost on the side of the rod marked her process. After brushing away the moss the words, Argon Jungle, were revealed.

Here marked the border between Morrowind and Black Marsh. Mai did not know why the feeling that she to reach somewhere within the land of the Dark Elves was clinging to her so much, forcing her on when less than a weak before she had been ready to accept death. Still, she did not fight the feeling; instead she carried on leaving the swamp behind.

The jungle was a thick towering canopy of trees that cast total darkness onto the ground, only occasionally interrupted by shafts of intense sunlight coming down through gaps in the leaves above.

Following a river north Mai pressed on further hoping to see some end to the seemingly never ending expanse of trees and plant life. The creatures ignored her for the most part, although she could feel their eyes on her, watching her to see if she was a potential meal or not. A Guar, a large reptilian creature with a long head and tail to balance itself out wandered out onto the trail in front of her. Its scales were a pale brown and eyes and flaxen yellow, both of them fixed directly on her. It grunted once and carried on, vanishing through the trees apparently uninterested.

Finally the jungle seemed to dissipate and Mai came out into foothills leading down to a long expanse of fields and grass plains leading off far into the distance. The terrain was hilly for the most part but curved down almost like crater with a flat bottom further north. A road curved nearby and following that Mai kept going north.

Eventually several wagons pulled by horses passed her as she walked.

The city of Naris was not far away and the wagons were loaded in items for trade and commerce.

"Ho!" She called up and the Redguard merchant at the front of the caravan trail glanced back, a chewed piece of straw hanging from between his lips. "To where do you ride?"

"Gah Rhun." He called back. A sudden feeling came over Mai that while their destination was now exactly where she was meant to be it was close enough. "If you wish to ride with us, its ten septim's for the trip." She had not taken much gold when she set out and the toll cost her most of her gold. Still, it was better than walking and she handed it over without a fuss.

Sitting silently in the back of the last caravan amongst the crates, Mai began to wonder why she lived the life she did. There were thousand of other paths she could have been born to start. But no, her's had been the way of the Gate Closer.

Knowing neither her mother nor her father she had grown up on the streets of the Imperial city, begging at the road side for gold or food. When she reached her 17th year and curves began to develop it became clear in order to continue living she would either have to sell her body, or go into business as a thief.

Not surprisingly, she had chosen the 'thief', option.

She became part of the Thieves Guild, one of the pickpockets for the legendary Gray Fox. From her tutors she learned how to pick locks and pockets, escape into the shadows and how to talk her way out of most hostile situations. Unfortunately their training had not been enough as she was caught by the city guard while gaining entry into the house of one of the gentry.

She was…kindly… escorted to the legion compound and placed within the dungeons. There she had to endure both the terrible food and the incessant stream insults from the racist Dunmer in the cell directly across from her own.

Time seemed to drag it's heals in that prison and she had lost count of how many days slipped by. Eventually however events began moving when the Emperor, the late Uriel Septim himself had arrived at her cell escorted by his Blades. That had begun a series of events that had trained as well as any master into the warrior she was today, but had left her still without the one thing she had never truly obtained.

Love.

At some point she had dozed off and when her eyes opened the weather had changed. It was dark and gloomy and the air tasted of approaching rain. They had left the grasslands behind as well. Now the caravans were traveling north along a road heading past a wide river that emptied out into a lake.

"Where are we?" She called back but nobody answered her. Suddenly a small head stuck itself out of one of the crates nearby. The short, scaly face of an Argonian hatchling.

"Lake Andaram." It replied, its tongue darting out over its scaly lips. Mai looked slightly taken aback by the sudden instruction. "I not know you. You merchant?" He asked. The young lizard was a dull red in colour with black stripes over his back giving him the illusion of tiger like stripes. Short spines ran across the back of his head down his neck.

"I'm just passing through." She replied, leaning back against some crates and attempting to make herself more comfortable. The child tilted his head to the side and blinked, regarding her with intense curiosity.

"You smell funny." He stated all of a sudden, sniffing her and leaning close.

"That's enough Swift." A High Elf woman with short tied back blonde hair and brown eyes told him as she rode up alongside the caravan on horseback. "Leave the nice lady alone."

"Ok mamma." The Argonian began, sliding out of the crate like a snake on his belly before scuttling along the caravan until he disappeared over the front.

"Momma?" Mai repeated. "I don't see the family resemblance." The high elf smiled politely in response.

"Swift is my adopted son." She told her. "After King Helseth proclaimed slavery illegal in Morrowind, the slave pits in Tear were emptied but too late to save some of the less fortunate." The high elf, whose name was Manorea rode alongside the caravan for some time simply talking with Mai.

Swift had been an egg when she first found him. Once the slave population of Tear had been freed, his mother had been too weak to survive another day and died; holding her egg close to her heart. Manorea and her husband had been overseeing the distribution of food and clothes to the freed prisoners at the time when she came across the egg and its mother's body.

Without care the still to be born youngster would perish. She had tried taking it to various Argonian missionaries, but with the latest influx of refuges from the slave pits they could not care for it. So instead she took it home with her and once it hatched she and Talonico, her husband, adopted the hatchling and gave him the Argonian name; Swift-In-Reeds or just Swift for short.

"That was very kind of you." Mai remarked looking at her boots almost humbling herself in the presence of one so caring.

"Most Altmer and certainly most Dunmer consider us insane for having an Argonian for an adopted son." Manorea sighed but then her kind smile returned. "But he's as dear to me as if I'd given birth to him myself." Mai said nothing in reply to that. Her emotions conflicting beneath the surface. "We ride north as well; perhaps you would care to join us?"

"To where do you head?" She asked.

"Mournhold." The high elf replied. "Talonico goes to the markets to trade some of his wares before we can make our way back to the Imperial City." The word, Mournhold struck a cord with Mai. The very word sent a wave of longing through her as if something within was asking her why she wasn't already where she was supposed to be.

"I thought this caravan was going to Gah Rhun?"

"The caravan trail itself is, my family and I our taking ourselves to the city after that."

"Momma, I finally got it right!" Swift called up as he glanced back over the tall front of the caravan. He raised a scaly hand into the air and a bolt of lightning shot from his fingers up and up into the sky with a loud crackling.

"A bolt spell, well done!" Manorea declared with the widest smile she could manage. "Keep practising your spells and you'll be a wizard in no time." Laughing the hatchling ducked back muttering to himself as to which spell he should attempt next.

"That was a perfect Destruction class spell." Mai remarked with raised eyebrows. "I've never seen one so young perform it before." Manorea looked very proud.

"He seems to have a natural affinity for magic. If trading in the city goes well we might even enrol him at the Arcane University." There was a sudden echoing boom from above and the sky started crying.

"Manorea, get the crates covered up before the fruit is soaked." Another high elf called over, riding past her on the back of a white stallion.

"Yes dear." Manorea replied. "I hope you don't mind but we're going to have to cover the crates with some canvas. You're welcome to stay under it if you like. It'll keep the rain off you until we reach Gah Ruhn." Before Mia could even say anything the high elf rode to the front of the caravan and began unwrapping long rolled up sheet.

Mai simply settled back in as the sheet was draped over her and tied down. Once it was she reached into her pocket and withdrew the gemstone.

Azura's star… a legendary item. She knew of it of course. Who could not know of the prized possession of the Daedra of Dawn and Duck? Alchemist, wizards and sorcerers had long since wished to claim this gemstone for their own but Azura would only bestow it to those most worthy of having it. Upon the death of its user it would return to Oblivion and to the hand of its true owner; ensuring that it could never be stolen and used without Azura's blessing.

Why had a Daedra of all things given this to her? She was the Gate Closer, the enemy of all Daedra and denizens of Oblivion.

No… she thought to herself… she was just the enemy of the servants of the Mehrunes Dagon and the prince of destruction himself. There were many other Daedric spirits, each with their own agenda's and dispositions.

Martin had been ready to condemn all Deadra but in the face of such an enemy one could not blame him for making the mistake.

Mai still wanted to dismiss her previous vision as the dream but the physical object in her hand refused to let her.

"That's sparkly…" A voice muttered and Mai instinctively went for her sword. Crouching there between two crates watching her was Swift, his gaze transfixed on the star shaped jewel in her hand. "Is that jewel magic?" He asked, peering closely at it and ignoring the fact she had her hand on the hilt of her blade.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping your…folks… with the caravan?" She asked. Swift made a sour face.

"It's boring… but I like magic stuff." He scuttled closer and beheld the glowing star. "Is it magic?"

"I imagine it is." Mai replied, placing it back into her pocket as a flash of disappointment passed over the young Argonian's face.

"You still smell funny." She remarked half in an attempt at an insult.

"So do you." She retorted. Swift snorted out his nostrils and scuttled away. The rain grew worse as the trip progressed, repeatedly drumming against the canvas sheet, illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. It began to grow colder as well, showing how far north they were travelling.

Mai was hungry. She hadn't eaten for at least half a day. There was food in these crates, fruits, grapes and wines from the vineyards scattered across the outside of Black Marsh. She'd stolen food to keep herself fed before and had little reservations about the transfer of ownership of various objects but still, something seemed improper about stealing the wares belonging to Manorea.

The caravan came to a sudden halt and someone up front called for all those following him to stop.

Mai pushed the top of the canvas open. They had arrived at their destination. The town of Gah Rhun was a settlement within House Indorial territory. It stood near the shores of the river they had been following. To the east away from the river bank was a stretch of flood plain that eventually lead up into a small grove of trees alongside a stretch of large hills.

The guards pushed the gates of the town open and the trader's caravan was allowed inside. A bolt of lightning cast itself across the sky and the traders quickly began un-staking their crates and produce, storing them under large stretches of canvas from the buildings.

Mai slid out and went her own way to look for a room for the night.

"Three gold for the night." A large Orc barkeep told her, thrusting his jutting jaw out so his tusk were in plain view to show that the price for a room at the local tavern was nonnegotiable and all she had left was a single gold piece.

Before she could leave Manorea walked straight up to inn keeper and handed him six whole Septims.

"Two rooms for a company of four." She told him and smiled wirily at Mai. "That is if you don't mind sharing a room with Swift?"


	4. Chapter 3

**Tirdas, Rain's Hand 26th. 4E, 06**

The first bubbling sensations of returning consciousness lifted Njordr from the depths of drug induced sleep and he pushed a single eye open. His vision was blurred and he blinked a few times to clear it. Once he stopped seeing double he found himself staring at the cast iron steel bottom of a large cage. It took a few moments for the strength necessary to sit up returned but once it had he pushed himself up along the bars and sat there, concentrating on regaining his wits.

Memories returned in a blaze of fire and suddenly he recalled exactly why he was sitting in the middle of a cage with his animal skin armour and weapons gone. He cursed out load and smacked the back of his head against the bars in frustration. That damn witch! He'd shared his shelter and food with her and how did she repay him? By kidnapping him!

The nord youth glanced at the bars around them. The cage was just large enough for him to stand inside and had the width of two or three feet. The bars themselves were a shining metal that took him a moment to recognise. They were silver, moulded into the shape of bars. Apparently the cage had been purpose built to hold a werewolf, meaning she had intended to betray him the moment they met.

"Taken in by a pretty face..." He muttered to himself. "You utter fool." He would have smacked his forehead but his arms and legs were bound with manacles made of silver as well. The touch of the metal against his skin was only discomforting and would only cause pain if left in contact with cut flesh. Beyond the cage was a ships hold, half full of tall crates and large boxes. The ground beneath his feet swayed back and forth as the ship carried on its course. Njordr had no idea exactly how much time had passed but thin shafts of sunlight were coming down through the gaps in the mesh over the hole leading to the deck.

While Njordr's immediate thoughts were to teach that witch that he did not appreciate being taken like this, he still wondered exactly why. Why would she wanted to see a 'Hound of Hircine' so badly? If she had gone to all this trouble to track one down then surely she had good reason. This kidnap seemed too well prepared to be arranged by Skall style fanatics.

Eventually someone moved the grate and began climbing down into the hold. Njordr looked up as he approached. He was an Imperial man, with a receding hairline but long. A scar ran down his left cheek and his canvas jacket and undone to reveal stained white shirt. A cutlass was sheathed in a Scabbard at his side, the hilt turned upwards. He simply stared at the nord youth with a curious expression on his face. Slowly he drew his sabre and pushed the blade between the bars as if he intended to poke at Njordr with the sharp tip.

"Poke me with that and you loose your arms." The Nord told him softly but with the fierceness of a mountain lion. The Imperial stayed his hand, his expression twisting into one of indecision. Grunting he withdrew his sword and slid it back down the scabbard at his side.

"Lady, your monster's awake." He called back to the entrance to the open deck. Njordr growled as he saw Baricus wander down. Like before her face was emotionless blank. Her eyes set themselves on her captive as she looked upon him with either little interest or empty enthusiasm. Her robes hide most of her body but as she walked she gave away outlines of a near perfectly shaped waist and legs.

"That will be all steward." She said walking back him. The Imperial lowered his head slightly and swiftly made his way back out of sight.

"Where am I?" Njordr asked without a moment's hesitation. "Why have you kidnapped me?"

"Only people can be kidnapped." Baricus began correcting him. "You have simply been 'captured'."

"Am I not a person?" The anger within the tone of his voice was a mere shadow of the rage within.

"No." She replied quite calmly. "You are a demon. A servant of a prince of Oblivion." Njordr lunged forward and grabbed the bars of his cage.

"I am no ones servant." He hissed. "Especially not that of Hircine!" Baricus' unnerving but still emotionless smile passed over her lips.

"So you admit what you are?" She asked. Njordr pushed his lips together into an intense frown, hissing out through his nostrils. "Regardless, you are here because I have need of one of your kind. You're going to help the Mages Guild understand the forces of Oblivion so we can destroy them." She turned to leave.

"Do I get fed?" He asked pushing his face into an ironic smile. "I'm famished."

"I intend to make sure you never consume another living being again." She replied without looking back.

"Actually I thinking more along the lines of that 'cheese' you handed out." The Nord added. "Although this time, without the sleeping draught." She paused for a brief moment before carrying on to leave him alone once more.

Njordr, having grown up alone in the wilderness of the Solsthiem islands, had never been on a ship and given his first experience with one was now sure he could do without them. The floor beneath him swayed back and forth as the ship continued on its journey. For most part, there was complete silence broken only by voices of the crew muffled by the decking.

Njordr had no way of knowing exactly what their destination was and no way of guessing as he had no idea exactly how long he had been asleep. Still, the fairly warm air around him told him they were definitely far south of Solsthiem. Few came below during the journey and those that did never looked him directly in the eye.

Whatever food they gave him was never put directly in the cage, only thrown within his reach of it as if they were afraid if they got too close he would rip their arms off.

Days and nights past as Njordr lost count of now many. Sunlight would fall through the cracks in the deck at one time and moonlight another. His cage had been purposely placed so that neither would fall on him.

Whatever the time at sea, it had been long enough for Njordr to grow a rough stubble over his chin.

One morning however he was roughly awakened when the deck beneath him shuddered as the ship came to a sudden stop. The anchor had been dropped and the crew were running about above. He could hear their heavy footsteps from here. The ship must have docked.

"Get below, prepare the cage for transport to the carriage." The voice of Baricus shouted from above.

Despite the injustice of his apprehension, Njordr felt a tingle of excitement pass through him. The circumstances surrounding his life had never allowed him to venture off the Solsthiem islands. The only contact he had had with other races had been when the Imperials had begun their mining operations. This would be the first time he would get to see any place off the frozen island and cage or no cage, Njordr thought it an opportunity.

Several men descended into the hold. Four of them were clad in iron armour over blue robes, hoods drawn up over their heads to conceal their faces. The other two were members of the crew whom he had seen down in the hold from time to time.

The men in armour glanced the Nord youth over sceptically, before they began pulling at the wooden harness underneath the cage. It rolled along the floor until it was directly over the trap door leading up to the deck.

Having been denied light for days the blast from the sun forced Njordr to glance away as ropes were lowered and tied on around the bottom and top of the cage.

"In position, bring it up!" One of the men around him called out and he felt the cage slowly rise up into the air. He opened on eye and watched the world beyond came into view.

Njordr had seen docks before, but never any like these. Along the entire waterfront were dozens of piers and jetties, many of them with ships and boats of all shapes and sizes moored at them. Flags fluttered high upon towering masts and then loud caw of gulls above wrung through the air. The waterfront itself was solid stone, a vertical wall that dropped right down into the water. Beyond that the ground became like a pebbled beach, the roads leading between the tall wooden buildings completely stone without a hint of dirt or grass.

It was just so…different that Njordr had trouble believing he wasn't dreaming.

Above, a crane moved his cage through the air and over the side of the anchored ship. It swung directly over the side until being lowered very slowly towards the edge of the pier. Two men were already there ready to meet it .One was another of those armoured men he had seen just before and the other was an elderly Redguard, wrapped in clothing the likes of which Njordr had never seen; not even at the abandoned Imperial fort. It was bright colouring and long sleeved, almost a robe with fabrics he did could recognise worked into it. A necklace of gold hung around his neck with a ruby directly in the pedant centre.

"Another for your collection eh Baricus?" He asked, calling over as the Imperial woman descended off the gangplank and onto the dock. "Your devotion to your studies of Daedric servants is nothing short of remarkable. Former Arch Mage Traven was quite disappointed when you transferred that skill from the Dwemer and Ayeild excavations to Oblivion examination." The Redguard looked back at Nord youth. "I must say; this one is less visually striking than some of the others."

"Only in the light of day, Cyrional." She replied as emotionless as ever. "Believe me he's more impressively impressive during a full moon."

"I certainly do not wish to be around for that demonstration. Oh and a word of advice; the major of Old Ebonheart isn't happy about that caravan you have camped on the outskirts of town. He wants us out before the Jesters Day festival on Middas. He's respectfully told me that unless it isn't moved within the next few days his militia will move it for us." Bracius' face pushed itself into a frown.

"Very well." She replied. "Have this specimen put with the others. We'll be underway as soon as I've had a chance to send some runners to let the Mages Guild know were' coming and gotten a decent meal."

"Fine. Ok, people let's get this latest freak over to the show." As the Imperial woman walked off, several men came walking down the pier towards the cage. Between them they managed to hoist the cage up a short distance before it was placed on top of a large wooden cart.

Njordr watched Bracius meld into the crowd and disappear.

Just what kind of collection was she putting together that required him as part of it? The horses at the front of the cart began to trot forward and it was pulled down through the docks heading along the waterfront under the guard of many Imperials in iron armour with hoods.

Most people, even those on the docked ships, would stop and stare as the cart rolled past. Njordr would stare out at them in return. He had heard about the others races that inhabited Tamriel before but had never had the opportunity to see anything more than either Imperials or Redguards.

Most in this strange wooden and stone city were dark blue skinned people with red ashen eyes and pointed ears. The word, Elf, came to mind almost immediately. Others like them were amongst the observers as well. One set tall and golden skinned with the same pointed ears; and others smaller than an Imperial with fair skin.

The most bizarre set were furry, feline like people who were serving on one of the ships they past by.

"Mommy why is that boy in a cage?" An Imperial child asked their parent, pointed forward the cart as it slowly moved past.

"Don't look at it; it's not even a man." Their mother told the little one, guiding its hand away quickly.

"Yeah, well what do you know?" Njordr called back grumpily over his shoulder.

The cart continued through the streets until it reached the towering stone wall surrounding the city. The guards at the large oak gate entrance were most cooperative, wanting to see the danger they perceived Njordr to be out of their home town as soon as possible.

The world beyond was so different from the frozen tundra he was used to Njordr had to blink at the sight of it. The trees lining the walls had branches stretched out wider than the evergreens on Solsthiem. They had long and thick leaves, some as large as a hand. The grass was long and wet with fresh drew, unfrozen and moist. The hills for as far as the eye could see were the same, covered in the same long grass like a sea of green that stretched up and beyond the horizon.

A trail carried on from the gate and not too far away, tucked behind some grassy knolls was an encampment. Some tents had been put up alongside very large carts were standing out above the grass. Oxen, presumably to be used as beasts of burden, were gathered together nearby grazing under the watch of a Redguard Shepard.

His cage was taken down into the camp and pushed through the opening of the large tent. Several guards stood outside and pushed the curtain entrance aside then they approached.

Njordr sank back to the far side of the bars at the sight that greeted him beyond.

Within the tent were more cages; rows of them placed about to easy access. They were exactly the same as his own, some larger and wider to contain some of the beasts within. It was the creatures contained that caught his immediate attention.

They were the strangest and some the most horrible beings he had ever laid eyes on. There was a woman with long flowing who had no legs contained in one nearby. As if in replacement she had the bottom half of a black spider. She snarled angrily as the men moving Njordr's cage approached.

In another cage there were smaller beasts that looked like reptiles. They had large bony frills around their necks, sharp claws and long thin tails. Two of them were asleep on the cage floor, the third snapped its beck like mouth at the passers by.

"Put it down over there." The Redguard Cyrional called out to the men, who manoeuvred the cage down onto a spot and nearly dropped it off the end of the cart. "Clear the tent and get some rest. We'll be underway to Mournhold in the morning." With that they all piled out of the tent as fast as they could, trying not to glance around them at the leering eyes that followed their every movement.

Njordr glanced around at the cages near to his own. He was boxed in on both the left and right sides. To his left, kneeling down on the ground was what Njordr mistook for a moment to be another man. At least it looks like a man at first glance, but men do not have pale violet skin. Nor do they have hair that stuck out in front of the forehead like a pair of horns. When the creature noticed he was being stared at it glanced up sharply and its eyes glowed a pale blood red.

Njordr quickly turned his head away and the creature did the same, apparently loosing interest.

In the cage on the right was a curled up shape that sat in the darkness of the shadow cast by the cage roof. All the nord youth could make out at first was a long tail covered with scales and a series of spikes running up top the tip to the spine.

A pair of eyes opened in the darkness as the shape moved, twisting around until a long thick snout poked its way out from between the bars. It was thick and scaly with long serrated teeth sticking out from between the lips.

Njordr did not move. He simply sat there silently with his eyes fixed upon it.

The lizard like beast in the cage studied him for a moment, before withdrawing back into the shadows of its cage.

"And now they place men… some of their own kind… in these constraints?" A voice asked from the darkness. "This is bad comedy."

"Be quiet Xilal." The man like beast in the far cage stated without looking up. "Do not allow a mortal to hear your voice. Play the part of the dumb beast."

"That is not so easy. It is not in my nature." The first voice replied and the shape within the cage laid itself back down as if it intended to dose off.

The day dragged on and while anyone else was in the tent, the creature hissed and snarled at them like deranged beasts but alone, they became quiet and sombre.

The sun set and night began, star appearing one by one. Njordr could see the night sky through a small gap in the tent fabric. Neither moon was full.

The Nord simply slumped against the bars. He wasn't tired but even if he did, he doubted very much he would be able to sleep with demons sitting close by.

The man like beast sat on the floor of his cage with his legs and arms crossed and eyes closed. He appeared to be almost in a state of mediation. All he had been given for clothes were a pair of tattered linen pants and canvas shoes.

"You sit there so silently." A voice began and the lizard like beast pushed the tip of its snout through the bars. This time Njordr got a full look at its face. Long and almost flat, with the eyes set into the sides of the skull and almost armour plated from the tip of the nose to the forehead. "I find that strange. Are you not afraid?"

"Afraid of what?" He asked, relaxing his shoulders.

"That demon woman." The creature stated. "The one who brought us here." Njordr knew of whom it spoke. "She keeps us here in cages, pokes at us with magical devices to test us, for experimentation."

"Why?" Njordr asked.

"I told you not to speak to him." The man like creature in the left cage muttered, opening one eye and casting a hostile glance at the scaly beast. "Do you not know how to act?"

"They do not consider him to be one of them." Was the hissed reply. "I do not see what harm can befall us by talking to him." The man beast growled and closed his eye, a very deep frown on his face.

"Ignore him." The lizard beast told Njordr. "He's like that with everyone, even his fellow Dremora's."

"Just what are you?" Njordr found himself asking before he had any item to think about it.

"We were part of Lord Dagon's invasion force when he attempted to capture Cyrodiil." The reply came without a moment's hesitation and with a small hint of pride. "We attacked the Imperial City in an attempt to prevent the new Emperors coronation. Our master, desperate to halt it, led the charge himself.

That was a disaster for us. It provoked a change. The Dragon Fires, the Amulet of Kings and the Barriers between Mehrunes' kingdom and the mortal world became one, forever isolating Lord Dagon from all other realms; even those of his prince brethren.

A few of us escaped the Imperial guards and retreated into the wilderness, looking for an Oblivion gate that would take us back.

But we found none. They had all been sealed completely and our way back to our master's realm was forever closed.

Even if our physical bodies are destroyed we can not return to Oblivion, for we are Lord Dagon's servants and travel too and fro between his realm, Nrin and any other realm is no longer possible at all. That is a fate most horrible for a Daedra."

"Why?" Njordr asked again.

"Because it effectively makes us mortal."

* * *

--

**Tirdas, Rain's Hand 26th. 4E, 06 **

The carriage ride through the Velothi mountain's was long and the air cold, the road rough and full of potholes. Balion wrapped his robes closer around himself, tugging his hood down to stop it from blowing off in the wind. Passing through the ShadowGate pass, the carriage by now was nearing the city of KragenMoore. Their ultimate destination lay across the Zenithar channel to the east and the Trandral plains but no more ground could be covered tonight and his passenger would have to feed.

First they would stop here, then be on their way to the town of Riverbridge. There they could take the local Mage's Guild teleportation service all the way to Mournhold.

The fact that he was ferrying a vampire did not bother the priest as he supposed it should be. While vampire hunting organisations such as the Order of the Virtuous Blood would have people believe that all vampires are agents of evil, deceivers and monstrous feral beasts. That was simply not the case. They differed like ordinary people and Ralphin was one of the least violent souls Balion knew, almost to a pacifist deposition.

Although his first imprison of the vampire had not been that. As the two horses pulled the carriage towards the city gates the priest reflected on their first meeting.

It had been years ago when Balion was still in his teen years. He had been born in the city of Wayrest. His father had been an high ranking member of the regional Mages Guild and from him Balion had learnt a few spells with which he had been forced to defend himself with on many an occasion. Hoping to study at the Arcane University, he moved to Cyrodiil and the Imperial city itself but found that the people there needed a priest and healer more than they required another Mage.

His father had been extremely disappointed with his son's choice and severed him from the family name, refusing his son to mar their tradition of wizardry.

Soon after taking up service in a district chapel, Balion began studying Imperial history in the grand library and the librarian there was a dark elf with sharp eyes that put the priest on edge. He paid no attention to him at first, but that attitude quickly changed when a thief blundered into the Library after being chased there by the city guards. Desperate, the Bosmer took several men including Balion hostage. When he tried to accost the librarian, the elf slid through his dagger swipes and pinned his arm behind his back displaying strength the likes of which broke the bones.

That had been enough to arouse the priest's suspicions and he began doing research on the man as soon as the guards had taken the thief away.

Unnatural strength and agility could have been put down to training in the Fighter's Guild, had Balion remembered he had never seen the Dumner out during the day.

The Breton followed him after he left the library. The dark elf slid through the streets like a shadow, moving through the darkness without a sound. It took a great deal of effort just to keep up with him. Eventually however, he vanished around a corner and disappeared completely. Balion searched the surrounding streets for him but he was nowhere to be found.

Eventually he gave up and returned to the chapel.

No sooner had he entered the door; then it was thrown shut from the inside and bolted within an instant.

The dark elf had been standing behind the door waiting for him.

"You want a word I take it?" He had asked with a cruel smile. Balion stumbled back against the pews, falling over several of them as he desperately tried to make it to the alter as if it would protect him in some divine way. "I noticed that you've been making some inquires as to my habits and work times. I'd also like to know why you were following me."

Acting on instinct Balion reached into his robe and held out the glove of garlic had had taken with him fearing a situation like this.

"Oh I see." The dark elf muttered before slapping the glove aside with ease. "Well if you really did your research you'd be aware that the 'weakness to garlic' is a myth." His eyes turned a dark shade of red. "Actually I'm a rather fond of garlic when sprinkled over roasted pork."

And so began a long period of enforced terror. Fearing for his life Balion was made to agree not to reveal Ralphin's secret and to allow him to take up residence in the chapel crypts.

While the vampire had threatened him with death during the first fear years of their relationship, Balion had yet to see him raise a hand to anyone and not just because anyone who knew him was afraid of him. He had calmly talked his way out of hostile situation without having to resort to force.

Over time they even became friends as ridiculous as the notion sounded.

Despite the vampire issue, Balion felt almost privileged and for many good reasons. He had a lonely childhood. Whatever friends in Wayrest all seemed to forget him when he chose to abandon magic for the priest hood. It was clear from that point that most of them only wanted to be around him because of his wealthy name.

Kragenmoore was built overlooking the Pryai River and Balion stopped the carriage just on the north end of the bridge leading into town. He leaned down and tapped the side of the carriage several times. A moment later the door open and Ralphin stepped out into the early night air , brushing some strands of hair out of his eyes.

"Ah Morrowind." He sighed. "It may be the border but I feel the difference in the air already."

"I'll find us a room at an Inn." Balion began. Ralphin shook his head.

"No don't bother. We won't be here that long. I can't afford to be late for my rendezvous." The priest blinked once to clear the gathering sleep dust in his eyes.

"Ralphin I've been riding all day to get us this far. I'm tired." The vampire smiled.

"I know you are, but I am not. You into town and get yourself something to eat and drink. I'll come and find you when I'm finishing nourishing myself." Balion looked distraught at a nights worth of riding. "Don't worry old boy. I'll drive the carriage during tonight and you can sleep in it until we get to Riverbridge.

You go on ahead. I prefer to enter a new place without being seen." Without waiting to hear the priests reply he slide over the side of the bridge into the darkness, below, vanishing to find a sewer entrance as a point of entry.

Balion simply trotted the carriage across the bridge towards the main gates.

Being on the border between Cyrodiil and Morrowind, Kragenmoore was a blend of Morrowind Dark Elven and Imperial architecture. The walls were distinctly western style while the buildings within reflected the House Hlaalu spirit of the region.

The nearest Inn the priest could find was the ShadowPass Stop-in, a large establishment near the city gates. It was imperial in style and the image of the Velothi mountains printed on the border hanging outside. A few drunken Nord's were being hustled out by the Orc bouncer when the priest entered.

They were singing something about a man in a workshop in the snow with lovely lanterns all aglow.

Balion sat himself down at a table in the corner and waited for himself to be noticed. He was still tired and was in need of something to keep him awake long enough for Ralphin to return.

"What can I get you good sir?" The serving Argonian maid asked.

"Mead." Replied without a moments hesitation. "Two flagons of the strongest Skyrim Mead you have." She looked a little taken aback by the order but wandered off back to the bar to get it anyway.

"I tell you I won't go near the place." Someone said loud enough to reach Belion's fatigued mind. "And if you have any sense, you'll stay away too." He glanced over at a nearby table. A Nord and a High Elf were sitting there. The nord was clad in full iron armour complete with helmet and the High elf wore the robes of a Mage. Clearly he was a member of the mages Guild, as his custom made staff was strapped across his back. The nord looked fairly drunk, with Mead stains entangled into his fiery red beard.

"I don't give two hoots about Nordic superstition." The elf replied almost snidely. "I need to be in Necron by Second Planting." The nord folded his arms and turned his head away,

"Then find another guide. The Elder Council themselves couldn't pay me enough gold to head East. In fact, at first light tomorrow morning I'm heading back into Cyrodiil and then into Skyrim." The Elf snorted and rose from the table, purposely knocking over a tankard as he did so. He marched out the door and went off, muttering angrily to himself some very nasty things about Nords.

"Excuse me good sir." Belion began. The nord glanced up. "I couldn't help but overhear. A friend and I are heading east. Is there any reason why we should not?" The man held a hand to his mouth and burped.

"I should say so." He replied. "I'm Henri- the long walker. I just got back from a small settlement on the coast of the Oroynyon Bay. There are some strange things happening on the eastern coast." He was slurring his speech. Clearly he'd had one too many.

"Such as?" The nord stopped for a moment to steady himself and to lift the rim of his tankard to his lips.

"Hard to say what's goin' on exactly, but every night I was thar were strange lights out on the ocean. Beacons like those from a lighthouse, but moving like on the bow of a ship." Belion blinked, rolling his eyes up.

"Perhaps just a few lost fishing ships trying to signal land?"

"Aye, that's what I thought at first." The man replied. "But not even the finest Norse ships can move like those lights can. And the lights themselves are odd, pure white and piercing like the sun. I saw it slice through the fog like a knife through a Sweetroll." Belion moved tables to sit beside the man. "And that's not all friend. As I was leaving to head back to my Fighters Guild hall, I saw something moving through the waters in the bay. It was only from the vantage point of a cliff I was able to actually get a good look."

"What pray tell was it?" Belion asked. Henri shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine. It looked gigantic, but was as rigid as a rock as it moved. Couldn't have been a fish, or whale; not any I know of at any rate. It was oval shaped, and emitted a soft glow that highlighted it under the waves.

It wasn't long before it vanished, leaving the bay swiftly with the speed of a fish in a school. I reported what I'd see to the local garrison but they just turned me away, said they had enough problems without drunken Nords turning up with… 'hic'… fish stories." He wiped his lips with the back of his hand as the priest regarded him sceptically. Under normal circumstances he would regard what he had just heard as little more then the ramblings of a drunkard.

But after the Oblivion Crisis and the events in the Imperial City, Belion was more prepared to accept the incredible. Besides, he liked a good story and sea monsters and mysterious lights in the night would make a finer starter for any author. Belion had always wanted to take up writing. In fact, he still had several old drafts back in Cyrodiil.

"What you'd said sounds like scout behaviour to me." A voice started. Both the Breton and the nord looked up. Ralphin came in through the door, brushing his hair back into position as he went. He looked youthful and there was a satisfied smile on his face. His hunt had been successful. "Whatever you saw, it sounds to me like it was surveying the area and once it was finished it returned to whence it came to make its report."

"Oh aye." The nord replied lifting in tankard in a half salute. "I was just about to say that."

"The question is a scout from where?" Ralphin continued, sitting down in a seat next to Belion. "Who would use an immense thing like that as a scout?"

"Well, it was on the eastern coast." The Breton murmured in thought. "Perhaps from Akavir?"

The nord exclaimed loudly, his breath smelling of stale mead and various other alcoholic beverages.

"Straight from one invasion and into another. But we drove back Dremora's! We can surely take on the Snake's again! They'll feel the bite of my axe!" He wrenched his Steal axe from his side and waved it about in the air like a madman. He lost his balanced and tipped backwards onto the floor knocking his seat over. A few others in the tavern started laughing.

The Argonian serving maid returned with two tankards of Mead and Belion downed them before Henri could right himself.

"Say my good fellow; are you by any chance a guide?" Ralphin asked. Henri pulled his helmet on straight.

"That I ammhm. But if you want me to take you anywhere in Morrowind forget it …hic…, the province just isn't safah with that thing hanging around its coastline yah know." His speech was blurred even more as he downed another of the Mead tankards without asking.

Without a word Ralphin reached down to his waist and pulled up a purse. He emptied the contents onto the table. Fifty gold pieces rolled out one of them falling into Henri's lap.

"We simply wish to get to the town of Riverbridge so we can get magical transportation to Mournhold." He continued as the Nord eyed the money. "But I confess my knowledge of the terrain of Morrowind is lacking. I have not been home in some time." Henri scoped up several coins ands held them to the light to see if they were genuine.

"Well…" He began but trailed off when Ralphin produced another purse and waved it in front of him.

"The gold on the tables in advance. You get another fifty once we get there, plus a bonus if you can do it by the end of this night." Belion glanced from the Dark elf to the Nord and back. Ralphin had read Henri very well. He had used his last few gold coins on drink here and was out of funds., This was just the thing he need to replenish his purse.

"I suppose if it's on this side of the Zenithar channel…" He managed trying to sound reluctant. "Very veeell thean." He stood up, swayed and caught the table for balance. "Abslootly wunnervul; I need to run off the …hic… beer anywhoos."

Laden with fresh supplies they left the eastern city gates. Unable to walk another step Balion nearly collapsed into the makeshift bed inside the carriage and fell asleep snoring loudly. Ralphin chuckled to himself and climbed into the drivers seat and lashed at the reins urging the horses into a gallop. They had a lot of ground to cover and very little time to do it in.

Henri may so drunk he couldn't tell left from right at the moment but even a nord would get suspicious when the Priest and the Agent changed places at dawn and dusk.

Instead of riding alongside the carriage Henri actually took to running after it. Ralphin did not think the Nord capable of walking in a straight line in his drunken state but not only did he managed to keep up but given him to gallop he actually managed to outpace the galloping horses. His movements, despite his heavy armour and large bulk were fluid and lightning fast.

Ralphin had told no one about the strange voice that had spoken to him before he left on this journey. There was no one he trusted enough to talk to about this sort of think. Usually

He went ahead, directing them through roads leading over the Shargon hills. Within the hour he had lead them to a precipice where they could observe the break in the Pryai river where the Seloth river spilt away from it.

Henri stopped there to catch his breath and stretch himself out.

"I must say, you surprise me with your speed." Ralphin announced, pulling back the reins so the carriage slowed to a stop.

"I woos a runner in me youth mate…" He said, clearly still under the influence. "It trains you up a childhood like that does, I could run from the frozen northern Skyrim coastline to the Cyrodiil border in less than two days." His tone was proud full. "Not even the best horse and carriage can make time like that." Henri swayed a little and leaned on the carriage for support. "Aye, those were happy days. Back then I was worth something."

Without warning there was a low rumble like distant thunder that echoed across the sky. Ralphin glanced up towards the horizon and felt the texture of the air around him change significantly. The cool breeze died away and air was suddenly stagnant, full of a latent electricity as if a storm was approaching.

"Rain?" Henri asked, looking up himself woozily.

"Possibly." Ralphin replied slowly.


	5. Chapter 4

**Tirdas****, Rains hand 27th; Morning E4 06; **

The marching was the worst thing of all, the in time footsteps of thousands; no, millions of soldiers. The sunlight gleamed off their polished bronze armour as they marched, always moving forward. Their terrible metal siege weapons moving behind them; lumbering forward like giant bi-pedal creatures but with the movements of clockwork precision.

The screams of the dying filled her ears as she listened to those desperately trying to put up a fight or flee, only to vanish in a dazzling display of light. The only trace of their existence being the ashes scattered to the winds.

Cities and towns uncountable burned and the Imperial banner of the Empire was torn down from the top of the Gold-White Tower and a new flag was hoisted in its place. The icon of hammer and dagger both held in a grasp of a bronze gauntlet swung above the turrets as the Imperial city itself fell into enemy hands.

The wings of a massive creature folded around the burning ruins of the isle city, the jet black scales each rimmed with a gold streak and a foot in length themselves gleaming like golden coins in the sunlight. A long tail sliding across the ground to in-circle the outer wall several times before the lip landed at Mai's feet with a loud thud.

The shadow of the colossal creature fell across Mai as she staggered back, reaching for her sword; only to find that her weapons had disappeared and she was naked before the beast.

"Stand down champion." A thundering voice echoed through the air and over the top of the palace, a massive head loomed blocking out the sun completely. "For all is well, I come now to ensure that Tamriel, indeed all of Nirn, is never threatened by the denizens of the princes ever again."

"Thy hath no need for this. Martin Septim have already done thy task." She replied in an alien accent and almost instantly the image of the ruined Temple of the One and the stone dragon statue appeared before her and the creature.

"The last of the Dragon-Born hath silenced only the threat of Mehrunes Dagon." The creature stated coldly, brushing aside the temple and the statue with its long tail; the visage collapsing into piles of stone before disappearing completely. "And what will thou do if Malog Bal, or Hermaeus Mora decided they wish to obtain the lost realm of the Oblivion cycle?" Towering high in the sky were images of the various Daedric realms.

Mai watched as she saw Malog Bal, the great corruptor observed his legions of crocodilian Daedroth's practice manoeuvres as if preparing for war.

Sheogorath, prince of madness spun visions upon the minds of the gullible, luring them into the depths of madness.

Finally she watched Mehrunes Dagon himself scream in utter outrage was the barriers protecting Nirn were reversed, leaving him forever trapped within his own realm; a bitter irony he took with him as he vanished forever.

"Martin Septim's work, indeed the work of the entire Septim line, is not yet finished." The beast continued as the vision in the sky vanished. "To truly leave Nirn free of the Daedra I must take my proper place as lord and master." The head reared itself up before its jaws pulled open, pillars of flame flying out from between its teeth; towering blades of fire slicing through the ground around her. "Behold the true Dragon Fires, the cleanser of lies and the barrier with which evil is held at bay. The promise Akatosh made to Alesia on the day the first empire of men came into being."

"Thou art a great evil thyself." Mai spoke calmly as she could, still feeling the heat burn through the air around her. "And your brothers will not rally to your call." A smile spilt the lips of the dragon.

"When I make myself known they will abandon Tiber Septim's memory and come to me. The forth era is the era of Fire and Steel, Champion and despite the star you hold, thou can not stand in its way." The sound of battle echoed across the sky, intermixed with the sounds of dying men. "It has already begun." The dragon spreads it colossal black wings and in the sky above it; one after the other; vessels like swords came flying into existence in the air to force a gigantic armada in the sky.

The Dragon reared back its head and laughed.

Mai came awake with a sudden jolt, sitting up sharply and gasping. The mundane world around her was silent compared to the heat and powerful sound of her dream and the sudden change from loud to quiet was disturbing. She tried to conjure images of her dream but only bits and pieces came back, as was often the case with dreams, leaving her with only patches of it. Why she had felt like she had known that dragon she could not say or why she had chosen to use such an old dialect when talking to it. She had never spoken like that before in her life.

The rocking of the cart brought her wits back to her and she glanced around at her surroundings. Manorea was at the front of their cart, moving it down the road in front of them alongside the grassy knolls alongside the left of the pathway. The sky above was grey and thundering in the distance as the storm that had passed overnight went on its merry way.

In exchange for passage on their cart, Mai had agreed to be their parties escort. Manorea's husband Talonico was concerned about bandits waylaying travellers on their way into Mournhold and was anxious for protection.

"I see your sword." He had told her last night at the tavern. "I'm assuming you know how to use it?" Mai appeared detached.

"I can swing it when I need to, know a few destruction class spells as well." The expression on the old High Elf's face had softened dramatically at the mention of magic. "A Spellword; all the better. So what say you? I'll pay you for any protection you can offer."

The heavy purse tied to Mai's belt was testament to her acceptance of the offer. It had seemed rude not to, as they had been kind enough to pay for a room at the inn.

She had remembered exactly when she had fallen asleep but the last thing she remembered was passing through a grove of arched trees. Talonico would not be at pleased that she had dozed off on her watch but as nothing seemed to have happened and neither of the high elves had noticed it mattered little.

A sharp pang of familiar grief tore at Mai's heart and it made the sensation of the world incredibly bitter.

A soft hissing noise brought itself to her attention and she glanced up to the front of the cart where the crates were stacked the highest. Swift was sitting on top of them, his hands held out in front of himself and his eyes closed tightly shut. The hissing noise was coming from just above his palms as the air bubbled with the prelude to a spell.

Mai did not interrupt him, but watched as he practiced his spell craft. He would wait five minutes, gathering up the magicka in his body before discharging a destruction spell into the air. The nature of the spell differed each time. Sometimes he could let loose a fire balls, other times he would discharge a blast of ice and others he would send a bolt of lightning rocketing skyward.

Once he seemed too exhausted to continue she clapped lightly. The Argonian glanced down half in surprise, not expecting an audience.

"Very good." She told him and he smiled, looking proud of himself. "Those are very good spells. You must have studied the college of Destruction quite a bit."

"Mamma picked up some books from a wizard once." He replied. "I read through those, learn a few tricks."

"Did they teach any other spells? Other than Destruction class?" The lizard looked a little confused at her question. "Alteration, Restoration, Illusion?" He shook his head. "Want to learn some?" Presented with the opportunity to learn new magic, Swift leapt at the chance and as the day dragged on Mai taught him the basics of a few Alteration spells. For some reason she felt happy while teaching this hatchling. It gave her a purpose she had been lacking for some time and somehow she felt that Martin would have approved of it.

It lessened the pain.

The most useful Alterations spell she had ever mastered had been one that opened locked mechanises. No matter what lock held a door or a chest shut; the spell would always force it open. It had proven extremely useful in her days as a thief.

Eager to widen his arsenal of spells, Swift paid attention as she demonstrated on a locked chest they had dragged out from between two crates. Laying her hand against the lid, her outline glowed bright violet for a moment before the lock gave off a loud click.

"Nicey nice." Swift commented. "Let me try." Mai locked the chest again and shuffled aside to let him have a go at it.

Being so good at Destruction spells Swift expected himself to be able to unlock it with ease. Instead, he found the alteration far more difficult than a fireball spell. As if his resolve was giving up, he ended up firing a lightning bolt at the wood just above the lock.

"I can't do it." He sighed, looking annoyed and disappointed. "Is this simple spell?" Mai shook her head.

"Not really. I didn't think you could actually do it, I just wanted you to see there were other colleges of magic besides Destruction." Her frustrated expression transformed itself into an intensely annoyed one. "Why don't we try a little further down the ladder?" The thought of teaching a 'water-breathing' spell occurred to her, but as Argonian's could breathe water anyway the exercise would have been pointless. Instead, she displayed a low class shield spell and Swift copied. It didn't come to him as effortlessly as destruction spells but he did manage it, casting a white outline around his body.

This small success gave him confidence and he began practicing more and more.

"We'll be nearing the Mournhold city gates within the hour." Talonico called back. The High elf was the first one Mai had ever seen of his kind to have a moustache. It was a bushy line of white hair that curved down over the side of his defined cheekbones.

By now their cart was moving out away from the hills and from here Mai beheld the walls of the Dark Elves Capital city.

Their design and general shape showed an Akavir-inspired origin. The walls sloped up almost vertically before stretched up and out in a small green tilted roof that ran along the entire top. The building tops behind the towering walls were just the same, all with pyramid shaped roofs made from sloping green tiles.

Merely seeing it filled Mai with a sense of accomplishment but for reasons still completely unknown to her. She had made it to the city, but she still had absolute no idea why or where the compulsion to arrive here came from.

Dozens of smaller encampments on the side of the roads that led up to the gate. They were little more than small trading posts and rest stops. Merchants had their produce laid out on carpets before them as they sat awaiting customers, assaulting passers by with long speeches about their 'fine and rare items in their inventory.

"Thank you for the ride." She called up to Talonico. "It's a shame we did not encounter any bandits along the way. I would like to have earned both your gold and your hospitality." The High Elf chuckled lightly as the rounded a corner and made their way towards the large main gates.

"You taught Swift a few new spells. That'll save me a lot of gold trying to afford him new study guides." The Imperial just shrugged.

"I'm afraid all I could teach him were a few basic Alteration class spells. I'm not well acquainted with the other colleges."

"Then why not stay with us?" Swift asked, pushing his head up out of an open crate and staring up at her with large innocent eyes. "You could teach me Altcarition and I could teach you Destruction."

"That's 'ALTERATION' and thank you for the offer, but I have to be going." As the cart came to a stop near the gates Mai slid off the back and dropped to the ground. Manorea was talking with the two Royal Guards standing there as sentries. Swift leaned over the side of the cart looking furlong and slightly anxious.

"I want you to keep practising those Alteration Spells and practise any other spells from other colleges you can." She told him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "So that next time we met, you'll be able to unlock that chest." That made him smile.

"I will." He told her confidentially. "I'll be the greatest Sorcerer Tamriel has ever seen." She smiled back and then turned as the gates were pulled aside and entrance to the city was admitted.

The streets of Mournhold seemed to greet her almost at once, a large stretch running between the almost perfectly square buildings. The ground was white marble, cut into reticular sections that were perfectly slotted together so there was never any left over space or half a tile required, showing great mathematical genius on behalf of the designer.

Once Mournhold had been the centre of Tribunal worship in Morrowind. But with the confirmed deaths of Almalxia and Sotha Sil, and the disappearance of Vivec; the native faith of the Dunmer fell apart. House Indorial fanatics crowded the temple in the northern part of the city, their numbers dwindling slowly.

Now that she stood within the gates of this city, the resolution to press on vanished at once to be replaced by a strange complacency. Whatever was guiding her here was telling her to remain put in this city until something happened, but it wasn't giving her any clues as to what.

"Mai, a moment please." Manorea called out to her as the cart moved inside. The Imperial Spellword stopped as the cart went on past the two of them, moving down the street with the others coming in through the gate.

The High Elven lady looked like she wanted to say something but hesitated before she did and looked a bit sheepish.

"Is something wrong?" Mai asked.

"Forgive me if I'm intruding…" Manorea began slowly. "But I could not help but notice it." The imperial blinked once in puzzlement. "You buried it deep down, but the emotional scars I could sense the moment you rode with our caravan." The pain she had almost fooled herself into believing was gone returned in an instant and for that moment at least Mai felt as isolated and alone as she had six years ago, kneeling before the Dragon Statue; beating her fists against the stone and crying out into the sky.

"Not deep enough." Mai stated coldly, putting on the most unfriendly expression she could manage. Anger helped block the tears and she found that suddenly she had plenty to be angry about.

The injustice of Martin's destiny, the cruel hand of Mehrunes Dagon and the silent machinations of whatever deity had guided her here.

"Tell me Mai, do you even know why you came here?" The Imperial woman shook her head slowly.

"Only that I had to." She sighed in reply and wandered off, making her way down the street. Manorea watched her go and felt a great deal of pity in her heart for the woman derived of her soul mate by the gods ; who put on a happy face when deep inside the wounds carved into her soul still hurt like the day they had been inflicted.

A Dunmer had opened a outside café in the Market district of the city. Mai sat herself down alone at a table and order a large tankard of imported wine. It cost a pretty penny, but with the extra coin in her purse she could afford it.

She sat there, remembered a moment when for the first time in her life she had been happy.

She remembered the crisp air of the Skyrim border mountains all too well. It was that freshness that she remembered most when she thought of Martin.

The long nights of study they spent together at Cloud Ruler Temple had been some of the most fond moments of her life. True most of those moments had been spent in heated argument, either together against Jauffre or against each other but now she remembered them with longing; wishing to return to them, to turn back the clock.

Outside the walls of Bruma, facing the Oblivion gate opening up Martin had delivered a speech to stir the men of the eight cities of Cyrodiil into patriotic frenzy. He laid it on a little thick, describing at length the 'demonic hordes' about to crash down upon them and about how they were to protect their families and homes, champions of the nine all.

It was a pathetically transparent attempt at last minute propaganda and even on the battlefield it had made Mai cringe. As terrible as it was it summed up Martin very well. He had lost his faith in the Nine long ago but even if the gods had no hand in events, it did not matter. This world was for the people who lived her, not the gods or Daedra who manipulated from afar and it being their world they had to act.

Martin, royal blood aside, was a champion amongst men.

Mai missed him so much.

"Its not often I see such a pretty face bare such a sad expression." A voice told her. She glanced up and standing there watching her with a kind smile as a Breton. He looked like a Breton at any rate, but by his height there might be a bit of Nord in him. His hair was long and mahogany brown, gleaming in the sunlight. His skin was tanned and his eyes dark brown, face angled and nose perfectly straight.

"Go away and leave me alone." She told him, glancing away. Now she had arrived her, the melancholy mood that had haunted her for six years returned with a vengeance.

"Oh now that's no way for a beautiful flower such as yourself to speak now is it?" He sat himself down in the chair on the opposite side of the round table. He wore the clothes of a gentleman; a green brocade shirt with pale green garment pants; his shoes black and gold trimmed. A jade necklace that looked as if it should belong to a girl hung loosely around his neck.

"I don't want company." Mai muttered, leaning on her arm and taking a very long sip of wine.

"How many of those have you had?" The Breton asked with a raised eyebrow. "Drinking to drown out sorrow is in the worst possible taste, trust me; I know from experience." She glanced back at him with a hostile stare but despite this he maintained a faint smile.

He had a wooden staff strapped into a leather sheath across his back. It bore the markings and shape of a custom made weapon, an item unique to fully fledged members of the Mages Guild.

He made a sudden face.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" He asked, looking her over more intently. Mai quickly pushed a few strands of her dirty hair over her face. She doubted many in Morrowind would know who she was but the last thing she wanted was people to know she was renowned 'gate closer'.

"Do you make of habit of engaging in small talk with strangers?" She asked.

"Only the beautiful ones." He replied, giving her a sly look. "The name's Balthazar, Conjurer of the Mages Guild. And who make you be?"

"Mai."

"No last name?"

"Can't remember it."

"Oh." He looked almost disappointed., folding his arms on the table in front of him. "Given your striking beauty I had thought you perhaps a member of a noble bloodline from the Imperial province, possibly even a distant relative of Uriel Septim."

"You can stop the flattery, it doesn't work on me." Mai told him with a fixed stare. "I used to fast talk city guards to avoid jail time. Besides, I'm no striking beauty."

"That is where I beg to differ my sweet." Balthazar leaned closer to peer into her eyes, violating her personal space. "Your skin has escaped even the smallest blemish and eyes have the sparking light of the stars fire." Obviously he was a self styled ladies man.

His flattery and outright lies continued for a while but when he saw his efforts weren't being rewarded, his smile widened and he relaxed his shoulders.

"Ok, I know when to quit. But you can't blame a guy for trying can you?" She smiled at him. "Seriously though, it doesn't do you be seen drinking. Gives you a bad reputation."

"At the moment I couldn't give a damn about my reputation." Mai replied, lifting the drink to her lips again only to find it empty.

"Well consider your health instead." He ventured. "I'm a good listener. Care to talk about it?" She sighed and slumped in her chair.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asked, and watched the edges of his mouth curl into a smile. "And I mean 'love', not some fling with a tavern wench." His smile lessened.

"Oh so its one of those issues?" He asked. Mai just nodded with a grim look.

The thought that she couldn't be talking about this was a stranger barley even passed through her mind. For his faults she could feel that Balthazar was a good man deep down, even he wasn't making passes are every pretty girl he saw. "What was the man like?"

"At first, timid, shy, uncertain." She breathed softly. "Like a boy in a mans body. A man filled with contempt for fate. But he grew.

Before the end he was strong, determined, persistent…" She felt a lump form in her throat. "And very brave."

"Did he die in the Oblivion crisis?" Balthazar asked. Mai looked up. "Forgive me if I'm over stepping my bounds by presuming but that is what happened isn't it?" She just nodded. "I knew a lot of good people who died in that invasion. So did a lot of folks. Kvatch, Bruma, the Imperial city." The mage leaned back into his chair and sighed. "And that was just in Cyrodiil, the Provinces were still pretty hard as well."

"But why him?" She found herself asking out load. "Why had he had to go? Why couldn't it have been someone else!" Balthazar remained silent as Mai released her bent up anger with a long sigh. A lot of people around them were staring. "Akatosh be damned, why him?" She asked more quietly.

Balthazar regarded her for a moment before he relaxed his shoulder and breathed out through his nose. "Its easy to throw the word 'destiny' around without understanding its meaning, as I don't believe anyone's fate is predetermined; with the gods blessing or otherwise.

People… just do what they have to do…"

The very same words Martin had used to her. Any control over her emotions broke down and she wept.

Balthazar placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"Hey you hear that?" A Bosmer sitting at a nearby table asked his lady companion. Now audible was a suddenly high pitched whistling sound, it was barely hearable at first but eventually it grow louder and louder until the sound was almost deafening.

Even Mai stopped crying to look around in wonder.

Without warning, the whistling ended abruptly and the ground shook with a deafening roar that echoed up for miles. A shockwave passed through the city, cracking stone and knocking anyone on their feet onto the ground.

Royal Guards were instantly running through the streets, swords drawn as they marched out of the Palace gates to form a defence line. Ordinators, although now few in number, were a formidable fighting force and ran out of the Temple in all their splendour; wielding their Ebony scimitars. Cries went up from nearly every part of the city and instantly everything was in chaos.

With a stern expression on his face, Balthazar slowly reached around and unclipped his staff from its sheath; the weapon dropping into his waiting hand.

Looking up, Mai watched in mute horror as the walls broke down in a spray of mortar and brick dust and the siege weapon moved in; a giant mechanical creature with legs like a birds and a rectangular upper body.

Several Royals guards attempted to get in its way, hacking away at the towering ten foot high legs; their attempts at killing the machine completely hopeless. The creature lifted a foot and then brought it down sharply, stamping all free of them into the ground. Their armour broke open with a loud cracking of metal plates and bone.

And it was then that Mai heard it, that horribly in time sound that still resonated through her dreams. The clank of thousands of feet in metal marching in time. Watching through the gap in the cities outer wall they came, line after line of soldiers clad in polished bronze armour.

**Tirdas****, Rains hand 27th; Evening E4 06; **

Despite the surrounding cages full of bizarre creature, Njordr found it surprisingly easy to drift off. The rocking of the caravan which held his own cage was strangely soothing and absently he had simply fallen asleep. When he awoke, their convoy was a long way from the city of Old Ebonheart. Glancing out through the bars of his cage he saw they were moving across open floodplain towards the hills in the distance and beyond them a short mountain range.

The beasts around him were Daedra, he had learned from listening to the Mage's Guild guards, beasts from the realms of Oblivion that existed outside of Nirn. While not knowing much about Oblivion, the Nord youth had read enough about it from books felt in the chapel of the abandoned Imperial fort on Solsthiem to understand what it was.

After this was clear, why he was included in this collection suddenly became obvious. The woman, Bracius, was a Daedra hunter. She was collecting various forms of servants of Daedric princes for her zoo. While technically human; Njordr was to be included as he was a Hound of Hircine.

Xilal was placed in the cage next to him. The crocodilian creature, called a Daedroth by the guards, had simply curled himself up in the middle and had been sitting there trying to look as unconscious as possible. His serrated teeth and talons made it hard and the guards would always pass by his cage the slowest, trying not to make any sudden moves until they were outside the reach of his talons. Xilal never made any lunges for them however. He sat there, silently, staring off towards the horizon.

Once Njordr was sure no guards were around he leaned forward through the bars towards him.

"You're big enough to break through the bars of the cage I'm willing to wager." He told him. "You certainly don't look happy here. Why not try to make a run for it?"

"Because I can not risk it." He replied without looking back. "My line to Oblivion has been forever severed. I can not risk my corporeal body being destroyed here."

"Well if your line to Oblivion no longer exists, then what happens to you when your body is destroyed?"

"I do not know."

"But isn't that the fate of all mortals?"

"I am not mortal."

"You are now." A low growl escaped the scaly lips and Njordr decided it was probably best that he not press the matter. It was clearly a topic Xilal did not want to discuss. He glanced away and when he did he noticed the shadowy silhouette of a woman casting itself across the cart's floor near his cage.

Looking up he saw that standing nearby, leaning against the side of one of the cages with a long wooden staff in hand was Baricus. She looked at neither of them, her eyes locked on the sky before her.

"The way you speak, talking to each other… it seems so unnatural." She almost whispered. "Demons forming rational arguments… its something I wouldn't even consider." Xilal rolled one eye up towards her; then looked away with a short hiss out through his upturned nostrils.

"Do I look like a demon to you?" Njordr asked looking annoyed.

"Not yet." She replied. "But I'm willing to bet during one of the Full moons you do." The Nord youth just shrugged as if it wasn't important.

"Sure. Those are my bad days, provided I actually step outside into the moonlight. If I stay indoors I'm fine." The Imperial woman did not look impressed. "Look Baricus; I can appreciate hunting as much as anyone. But this goes beyond the pleasure of pursuing prey." He added, leaning further through the bars towards her. "I can almost smell the satisfaction coming from you when you see all these creatures stuffed in cages." Her head turned to look him straight in the eye. For the first time her emotionless façade had vanished to be replaced by mute anger. "This is personal for you isn't it?"

"That's none of your business Daedra." She snapped, stamping the blunt of her staff down on the floor.

"He's the Daedra." Njordr replied almost casually, inclining with a toss of his head towards Xilal. "I'm just a hound." Baricus pushed her lips together tightly into a fierce frown and walked away.

"Upsetting her was unwise." Xilal stated.

"But rewarding." Njordr added with a grim smile. "I don't intend on giving that woman the satisfaction of thinking I'm her whipped dog."

Xilal growled deep in his throat and rose up, hoisting his large scaly body up until he was almost kneeling on his hind legs. His spiny tail curved around him almost like a protective wall.

"You are at her mercy. If she desired, she could summon the guards to kill you. She could probably kill you with her spells alone. Why do you risk your life by provoking her?" Njordr yawned, scratched the back of his head and then leaned back against the bars of his cage; crossing his arms behind his head.

"The alterative would be for me to sit here in his cage for the rest of my life, doing tricks on command for her amusement." He closed both eyes and placed on leg on the knee of the other. "That's not in my nature." There was a short silence before Xilal began chuckling lightly.

"You inhabitants of Nirn are the strangest creatures. You exist for a mere blip and yet you're fuller of life than some of the long lived denizens of other Oblivion Realms." Njordr opened on eye, looking up towards the sky through the bars for a sensible answer.

"Maybe because we spent all our lives in one go we don't live as long but when we do, we really live."

"It's just a shame that I can't share in your energy." Xilal added slumping his wide shoulders. "Men believe that when they die their essence is drawn in by the gods and used to fuel the magic in Aetherius. Daedra have never 'died' before so we do not know where we go when we die. Like I 'will' die." Njordr looks unconcerned.

"Ah that witch Baricus is no threat without her cages. What makes you think you're going to die?" Xilal lifted a large scaly hand and looked down at it.

"Eventually I will. This body can not last forever and at some point it will give out due to old age even if I avoid someone's sword or arrow. My essence can not return to Oblivion so where I go after that I can not say."

They spoke little after that and Njordr let his mind wander. Even under the circumstances he found this place a nice change from the frozen island chain to which he had been confined his whole life. He had heard of warmer lands of course but never had he the chance to see them.

The guards talked of this place as Morrowind. Njordr had read about it in one of the books left behind by the Imperials in their fort.

The land of the Dark Elves.

It was far warmer than he used to, so he guessed he was on the mainland rather than the Island of Vvardenfell.

Briefly his thoughts wandered to ideas for escape but he found that Baricus had taken a lot of precautions with the transport. Guards walked and rose alongside each cart in the convoy and mages with staffs joined them. Even if he managed to get out of this cage he was going to be riddled with arrows and scorched by fire ball spells before he could take a second step.

Barcius would walk past now and then but she wound not look at either of him; although Njordr could tell by the way her nose wrinkled that she was bothered by his presence more than Xilal's. Perhaps it was because he looked so human.

As far as Njordr was concerned, he was human. He simply changed at certain times and under certain conditions.

The curse of the Werewolf, the invention of Hircine, was an aliment that existed in all lands; although each province often had their own variation.

Baricus had heard tell of WereCrocodile's in the depths of Black Marsh and even WereSharks off the coast of areas.

All werecreatures were hard to come across and even harder to catch; one of the few remaining varieties of Daedric creations she had yet to capture. She had been lucky to find this one in its human form.

All other beings she had encountered with Hircine's curse had been driven mad by it; but this 'Njordr' was different. He seemed about as sane as they come. Still, she hadn't seen his behaviour in beast form yet so she held off making any assumptions.

What bothered her now was that he was first creature she had captured to talk back to her. Once in their cages the Daedra were quite and subdued only making noise and acting fierce in the presence of the guards as if trying to save face.

"We'll be reaching the Meralag River by this evening." One of their entourage told her. "The boats are already waiting for us. We'll be within the city walls by tomorrow morning." He murmured as response but her thoughts by now were far away from any recent subject.

The cold bite of remembrance sank its teeth into her and despite her best efforts to fight it off, recall eventually happened.

Her fellow Mages wondered why she hunted Daedra with such fervour.

The answer was quite simple.

She wanted to make them suffer.

Every wound, every death, even tragedy they had inflicted upon the innocent she HAD vowed to pay back ten fold.

For the moment, capturing examples of their Prince's minions was all she could to prepare an army to hunt them down; slaughter those left in Nirn before bringing an end to their master's machinations.

Over the last six years her determination had never wavered not even for a moment and she was held in awe by the Mages Guild because of it. But the sight of that young man in a cage felt her on edge.

"He's just a monster." Baricus found herself repeating under her breath now and then.

Before too long their convoy reached the banks of the Meralang river. This was as far as they would be going by road. A short way south along the banks was a dock where several swift transport ships lay anchored awaiting them.

The tricky business of transferring the cage from the carts to the boats began. No one wanted to get near to the creatures inside so an adapted crane was used to hoist the cages off the carts one by one and once a boat was full up, it hoisted its anchor and set said down stream.

Xilal was loaded onto the third ship while Njordr was put on the forth. The cages were lowered through a large trap door into various places in the hold. Once the hold was full up, one or two cages were strapped to the deck. Njordr was the last and so his cage was dumped on deck and fastened down with large metal straps.

As soon as Baricus wandered up the gangplank they set sail.

"Don't you have anything to say this time?" She asked him. The young nord leaned back and lay on the floor of his cage staring up at the ceiling.

"Like what? Perhaps you were expecting a ' I'll-have-your-heart-for-this' statement?" The Imperial woman raised a questioning eyebrow. "Yes I'm annoyed but there's little I can do about it so I might as well make the best of it." He leaned over and shot her an ironic smile. "What's the local food like?"

She ignored him down the river, sitting near the bow of the ship facing away from the cage. Taking out her notes she began studying them just as an activity to take her mind off other things.

While freelancer adventurers had more contact with Dwarven ruins than Mages, it was the Mages Guild which was responsible for the study of study Dwemer technology. Thus far little progress had been made in understanding the advanced and complex machinery the mysterious race had left behind. A few Centurions and airships had been rebuilt and activated but the Empire simply wasn't capable of producing them in masses the way the Dwemer could.

Even with it's never ending study the Mages Guild still didn't understand half of the nature of the devices and relics adventurers would come by to sell. The official history of the Dwemer themselves were even disputed.

Some maintained the belief that they were a type of Elf that evolved out of the prototype Aldmer. Others thought them to be a race of men that intermarried with the elf's to become a distinctive race much the same as the Bretons.

Unfortunately their ruins argued against both theories. The ruined sites were so far different and advanced from all other civilisations, including the Ayleid, that existed and had existed on Tamriel that they hinted at a completely different origin from both Elves and Men.

While studying for a Guild Membership at the Arcane University Barcius had looked over the Guild's various notes from field work and like any good study that set up her own investigations. In recent years however she had placed it aside for her personal hunt of Deadric servants.

Out of boredom and a need to distract herself she had taken up her old notes to look over.

No one knew exactly what had happened to the Dwemer and why they no longer existed, at least on Tamriel. Theories ranged about as usual but none could be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. Piles of Ash amongst the ruined armour in some sights seemed to support the theory that they had simply died on the spot, decomposing where they stood after the events at Red Mountain. Whether this happened to all the Dwemer or just a select few was still debateable.

Her notes on Dwemer ended abruptly with the turning of a page and instantly she was into her various writings about Daedra. This was the moment where it had happened and everything changed in her life. This had been when she cast everything else aside to study the workings of Daedric magic so that she might pursue the demons and those vile enough to summon them.

With reluctance she was forced to admit to herself that the Nord youth behind her was right and that her hunt was personal. She wasn't doing this because it was for the good of the Guild or the Empire.

A thunderous boom caught her attention and she looked up. The sky wasn't that cloudy but that had sounded like thunder. The air around them was actually humid and it didn't feel like the approach of a storm of some kind. Even some of the Daedra in the cages along the convoy of ships glanced up briefly, looking slightly puzzled by the strange phenomenon.

To the east the sky began to glow orange as if in sunset by the sun was not in a position to reinforce the illusion.

Barcius stood up and was immediately knocked off her feet by a loud shockwave that rippled through the trees on the far side of the bank. It shimmed across the waters of the river before throwing the boats so violently to the side that two crashed into the banks on the far side and beached themselves. Njordr was thrown against the bars of his cage, slammed hard against the silver.

Anchors were dropped immediately, the remaining boats intending to remain exactly where they were.

"What in the name of Akatosh was that?" One of the Mage Guards asked, the boat swaying back and forth on the uneven water's surface.

"By the Nine Divines, Look!" Another shouted. Baricus pushed herself up with her staff and followed their gaze. A tall pillar of black smoke was emerging from beyond a large row of hills and small mountains running along side the river to the south. Mournhold itself was behind those hills.

"We're going ashore. Come on!" Baricus declared and she and the other Mages began making for the boats. Njordr picked himself up off the floor of his cage and blinked; his vision blurred from the blow. He shook his head to clear it and sat up.

All the guards on the ship and half the crew were making lines for the smaller boats to take them directly ashore.

Seeing opportunity knock the Nord reached through the bars of his cage and grabbed hold of the lock binding it shut. While picking it was beyond his abilities all he required at the moment was its removal. Sharply he tugged at it and with the racial strength of a Nord the metal snapped in his grip. A sharp kick was all that was needed to force the door open.

Just as he did so a dark shadow passed him over, silhouetting the entire boat and the river from side to side.

Njordr slowly turned to look directly up and watched as a vessel of tremendous size blocked out the sun, its bow like a spear tip and its underside covered in long an d thin metallic barrels pointed downwards. Within moments it was joined by another two of its kind, followed by another four and then another six; an entire fleet of flying ships moving in formation as they moved from east to west.


	6. Chapter 5

**Tirdas, Rains Hand 27th; Night E4 06**

The fire the flying vessels had rained down from the heavens had forced Njordr to take cover in a rusty pipe that emptied out into the river on the eastern side of the city. He was no stranger to battle but this was like nothing he had experienced before. Projectiles like fire rained down from the flying ships, the ground bursting open as they collided with the ground.

The wooden ships down the river had burst asunder, some sinking and the others bursting into flames and igniting.

From here the nord youth could see that some of the Daedra had managed to escape their cages. Desperately they were racing towards the city, trying to dodge the fiery hail from above.

One of them was Xilal.

The Daedroth was keeping his long scaly head long, scrambling up over the banks near the river towards the relative safety of the city walls.

A clannfear was following right behind him, trying to keep up. Just as the small reptile reached the top of the bank, one of the fiery projectiles came crashing down upon it.

. It squealed as its corporal body was shattered, but unable to return to Oblivion as it always did, its essence seeped out into the Mortal world and was absorbed. Its body broke up into small particular and floated away.

The explosion sent Xilal flying forward, rolling in the dirt and mud before coming to a stop.

"Xilal!" Njordr called over, his voice nearly drowned out by the explosions arching across the walls. The Daedroth glanced up, seeing his only chance for survival.

Desperately he ran towards the open pipe, scrambling over the rocks and up the steep slope. The ground exploded around him, threatening to end his bid for life but he kept going fear more than evident in his eyes.

As he reached the pipe, Njordr reached down and grabbed one of the Daedroth's claws. With a sharp tug the nord youth pulled him up into the pipe, his tail vanishing inside as a fresh wave of fire came raining down.

"Move!" Njordr cried out as a projectile came hurtling down towards the pipe entrance.

The two of them only managed to hurry inside just enough before it stuck, hot air forcing the both of them forward at a frantic space while the entrance collapsed behind them in a spray of fire and molten metal.

The attacks came so hard and fast there was no hope of defence. Within the space of five minutes the walls of Mournhold came crashing down. Ordinator's rushed into battle with their swords drawn but they were crushed underfoot as metal creatures the likes of which had never been seen before marched in one by one. Massive walking clockwork beasts that sent destructive projectiles of light coursing at point of resistance were entering the city, overrunning it within a matter of minutes.

The Royal family fled to the Mages Guild quarters to be magically transported away when it became clear that the palace could not be defended. Even as they were running through the corridors of their own stronghold the gates to the courtyard were kicked open and the metal behemoths began marching in.

"What do you mean you can't?" King Helseth demanded of the Mage angrily as the ground beneath their feet shook violently and mortar began falling from the roof.

"I'm trying sire, but I can't transport you." The Alter tried to tell him. "I'm trying, but I can't even cast a recall spell for myself!" The other Mages tried spells of their own but nothing worked. It became clear all too quickly that the moment the walls had fallen anyone capable of casting even the simplest spell had been rendered useless.

"They're in the palace my…" One of the guards cried out as it rushed through the door before a flash of intense light shot from behind him and he crashed down at the feet of the king with a smoking hole in his back. Helseth beckoned his mother Barenziah to stay behind him as several figures began moving forward through the smoke.

The one in the centre advanced into the room. A tall being, clad completely in shining bronze polished armour that hide any sign of his body from view. The visor on his helmet was a dark slit through which a pair of copper eyes studied those assembled before him. Slowly its hand raised itself to his chest plate and the fingers laid themselves gently upon the metal. For a moment it was silent and still before he looked Helseth directly in the eye.

"You are King Helseth, ruler of the Imperial province of Morrowind?" It asked but the voice seemed strained, as if echoing off of several surfaces of metal.

"I am." The dark elf replied. Without a moment's hesitation the invader swung a fist forward, striking Helseth across the chin forcing him down onto one knee.

"Human boot-licker." He hissed in disgust before turning away. The invaders two other companions moved forward and bound the king's legs and arms in metallic shackles. His crown was torn from his head and crushed underfoot before him, a symbolic gesture to inform the captive monarch that his reign was over.

With the capture of the palace the destruction ceased and the metallic giants fell silent. But the damage had already been done. The entire eastern Plaza district was a pile of smouldering rubble and the walls were now completely broken down, lying at pile of shattered rock on the ground.

Whatever streets that were left were full of dead bodies; Ordinators, Royal Guards and Imperial soldiers alike, most of them crushed in their armour into the ground. The blood seeping to flow into the drains.

Even when the ceasefire was called, the assault on the giant temple in the north part of the city did not stop. With almost fanatical persistence the machines burned the building down to the ground and stomped on any visage of the Tribunal as if offended them.

Now the objective of their campaign had been taken, their supporting airships moved on; flying off after separating two separate groups. The larger fleet headed directly west while a smaller force but large in its own right headed north towards Vvardenfell coastline.

The survivors of the attack watched the ships leave, their massive bulks vanishing into the clouds. Most civilians had been rounded up and detained by the massive walking clockwork machines and their smaller armoured soldiers. They were herded into small groups and surrounded. They huddled together for some sort of protection as the soldiers kept them in place. Each invader had a strange weapon that resembled a crossbow but of a kind never seen before. They were like metallic pipes with blunt edges and a funnel end. A trigger suggested it was a projectile weapon of some sort but what it projected nobody wanted to find out.

Mai watched from underneath a collapsed section of building where she was unobserved.

Balthazar had vanished during the attack, perhaps being carried away by the running crowd or maybe by now he was dead. She didn't know.

What had been the intention of the compulsion that had brought her here?

Was it to die in this attack, prevent it somehow maybe? How could she have done that? The power these strange metal warriors possessed dwarfed her skill. She had seen these monsters tear down three foot thick walls with ease. She wouldn't have lasted five minutes in direction confrontation.

What bothered her most was the familiarity of these monsters. She had seen them before… in her dreams. Those armoured soldiers and metallic behemoths were impossible forget.

A loud clanking caught her attention and she backed off into her hiding hole in the shadows as two of the invaders marched past. Between them were carrying a limp body, the feet dragging on the floor. Without any regard for it they simply tossed it in the direction of the frightened crowd.

The body was that of an Imperial legionnaire. His armour was in ruins and blood was trailing after him. Mai could not tell from this distance if he was dead or alive.

The Dunmer captives were forced into a line, huddling together in the mud and the dirt.

"You are of the Dunmer race." One of the invaders announced to them as several more formed themselves into a two lines, the front row dropping down onto one knee. "Decedents of the Chinmer race. That is the only reason why." He stepped aside and instantly a loud succession of noise range out, smoke flying from the barrel ends of the strange weapons they held.

The dark Elf prisoners collapsed, blood spurting from torn wounds in their chests.

Mai placed a hand over her mouth and turned away, trying not to gag. The cries of the protest and outrage from the crowd roared high.

"Silence." One of the invaders declared. "Anyone who complains will be next. Now get back into line!"

There was no point in doing anything heroic. There was nothing she could do here.

These beings had demolished an entire cities defence's with ease. She would do little better against them on her own.

Her only option now was to evade capture and escape.

She wasn't sure how they were doing it, but the invaders had somehow been able to prevent the use of magic within the city. Mai had been trying but even the simplest of spells refused to manifest. That left her with no defence shields or even teleportation spells.

That wasn't that big a loss. She was far more skilled with a blade than she was with a spell. She would just have to get out of the city on foot.

-No-. The voice was shrill and urgent inside her heart. -They are not here yet-. She stopped in the shadow of a collapsed building, shaking her head.

"Who?" She demanded of the voice. "Who isn't here yet?" She did not get a reply.

"You! Don't move!" She glanced up watching as three soldiers clad in shining bronze armour came running at her with those strange weapons held at the ready. Quickly they surrounded her.

"Human; Imperial Race." One of them whispered, inclining his slightly head towards the others. "Take her back to the encampments. The transports will be here soon with fresh troops, the General wants to see the citizens first hand." One of them made a move to grab her arm. She took hold of his instead, twisting it around violently until there was a loud snapping sound.

The soldier staggered back, dropping his weapon and screaming his arm at an unnatural angel. The others raised their weapons higher and pulled the triggers underneath. That was the only warning Mai had to duck as two projectiles slammed out of the barrel ends and into the wall behind her, a strong musty smell instantly filling the air.

Her sword hissed loudly as it was drawn from its scabbard and as it punctured the bronze armour, sliding through flesh before pushing its tip out the far side.

The pumping spray of blood hit Mai on the forehead.

Whoever these invaders were they were mortal.

They could still bleed.

The third tossed his projectile weapon aside and drew a short blade from his belt, the metal a bright brown and held rigid on one side by metal from the hilt.

She dodged the stab, parrying around it as her own blade slicing up across the chest plate of the armour. The barrier absorbed most of the damage but the solider was forced to stagger backwards, leaving him wide open as Mai landed a kick on his stomach. Stunning her opponent she drove in with her sword, driving it down through the heart as she pinned him to the floor.

The soldier shock violently for a moment before going limp.

The wound soldier used his good hand to reach fro his own blade. Mai kicked it out of his grasp and then struck him back until he rolled onto his back.

"Human wench!" He hissed. Mai stamped on his injured shoulder, eyes glaring down at him without a hint of emotion.

If nothing else, the Oblivion crisis had desensitised her to the realities of war.

"Well, if you're not human then let's take a look see at what you people actually are." She reached down and took hold of the underside of the helmet. Before she could lift it off, the ground shook systematically and around a corner came one of the invaders giant walking machines. It turned to face her and on arched legs charged, raising its short arms and with them those horrible weapons of light.

She broke into a run, trying to use the buildings as obstacles in its way as from its arms deadly projectiles came flying at her, beams of light that struck and burned anything in their path. She had seen these siege weapons at the walls of the city and had already seen their destructive potential.

Hiding from the monster seemed to be the only thing she could do. Sliding through the fallen rubble she desperately tried to evade his path but somehow it kept following, marching over the masonry crushing it beneath its large flat metal feet. Sliding into the shadow of a building, Mai paused to catch her breath. All she could hear was the beating of her own heart and the unforgettable sound of those continuing footsteps. Part of the wall had collapsed nearby, leaving a hole into the buildings cellar.

As the footsteps drew nearer she darted inside and into the shadows.

There she waited, holding her breath as she felt the ground tremble under the behemoths weight. It stood nearby; slowly turning this way and that as if to look for her, then after a while it seemed to loose interest and began marching away.

The footsteps grew more distant before they disappeared altogether.

Mai released her breath.

She spun around suddenly hearing a noise coming from behind her. The cellar was empty; half of the floor above had crashed down burying the far end in rubble and leaving the compartment in almost perpetual darkness.

It did not take much searching to find the source of the noise. Crouched in a corner near where the rubble from above had caved in was a juvenile Argonian; one Mai recognised almost instantly. Swift was bent over, sobbing nearly uncontrollably.

"Momma, momma wake up." He was crying. Mai glanced down and sighed through clenched teeth at the sight of a golden skinned arm sticking out from underneath the rubble. Attached to the wrist was a chitin bracelet she had seen Manorea wearing less than half a day ago.

"I'm sorry little one." She began, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Believe me I am so sorry." Suddenly the ground shook and brick dust fell from the ceiling. The loud shouts of men echoed from outside along with the hissing sound made by the machines when they discharged their weapon of deadly light.

The roof above started to give way. Mai grabbed Swift by the arm and tugged him clear before the rubble cam pouring down, cascading over the cellar floor burying the body of the high elf completely.

"Momma!" Swift cried out as Mai flung him over her shoulder.

Watching from the crack in the wall the Imperial woman saw dozens of men in blue robes, some with iron armour on running down what was left of the streets. Some of them stopped and tried to fire spells, only to discover the magic dampening effect the strange invaders had. Their screams rang out into the sky as a beam of intense light shot from around the corner and they vanished in its haze.

One of them, a woman with long black hair took hold of her wooden staff and aimed the tip at a piece of rubble nearby. Apparently the invaders influenced did not hold sway over enchanted items and using a powerful telekinesis spell, the pieces of rock were picked up into the air and flung with tremendous strength forward against the side of another of the mechanical giants as it came around the corner.

The blow caught the machine off guard and it staggered backwards, tripped over a collapsed section of building and toppled backwards crashing into the ground. There it lay, legs desperately flaying about in the air trying to get a hold of something to pull itself back up.

The Star of Azura in Mai's pocket sparked as if enchanted and glowed intently, the light spreading out and lightning up the woman's entire outside leg. She took out the gemstone and held it up before it. The light within was pure white and Mai watched as if cast its illumination towards the woman with the staff. The Woman herself was too busy rallying what remaining of her men to her to notice the spotlight.

"I don't know what's wrong Baricus, I can't cast any spells." One of the mages told their leader. Baricus held her free hand out in front of her and tried summoning a small ice bolt spell. To her alarm even she wasn't able to use any magic. It was as if her skills had simply been taken from her.

"We're no good here if we can't cast any spells. We should pull out." Another announced.

"We're not leaving until we ascertain the situation here." She told them sternly, tapping the butt of her staff down to remind them of its existence. "As long as I have this we'll be find."

"Over there!" A young mage declared, jabbing off towards Mai's hiding hole. The Imperial quickly stuck the Star back in her pocket and waved to them.

"Hold, we're not enemies." She called down as several of them went for their daggers. Barcius held her hand out to quiet her mages down. "Are you Mages Guild?" Mai asked as she moved out into open with slow non threatening movements.

"We are. Our convoy was sailing down river towards the city. What happened here?" Mai explained what she knew, how the attacks had been swift and deadly, the rounding up of every civilian and the capture of various governmental officials from the palace. Helseth and his mother had been placed under arrest and taken somewhere. Mai was not sure where.

And finally of the execution of any Dark Elf the invaders could get their hands on.

"That's barbaric!" Baricus growled.

Before she had even finished speaking the loud sound of marching echoed out into the air. Several of the mages turned before being thrown back by projectiles as they were impacted in the chest, blood spraying and trailing behind them.

Dozens of the invaders in their bronze armour charged out from a nearby street, firing their weapons as they ran. Baricus held her staff forward and the telekinesis enchant frozen the projectiles in the air,. But there were too many for her and several broke through; one of them striking her in the leg and another two in her shoulder. She cried out and toppled backwards crashing into the ground; blood seeping out of her wounds to stain her robe dark.

Mai made a grab for her with her free hand and tugged the woman along with her she ran.

Whatever was left of the Mages followed her example, fleeing for their lives; some of them being mowed down as they fled.

Rounding a corner Mai uttered a silent pray to any divinity within earshot at the sight of an entrance into the city sewers. It was common knowledge that a labyrinth of sewers, caves, tunnels and ruins existed beneath Mournhold. An easy place to loose pursuers in.

"Down here!" She cried out, racing toward and nearly jumping down into it. The mages followed as fast as they could. The final one a boy no older than fifteen was shot in the back on the verge of salvation; his body dropping forward into the abyss and landing with a loud crack on the stone just beneath. If the wound hadn't kill him, the fall certainly had.

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The city was now under control and the surrounding countryside purged of any hostile troops. Once confirmation of this had been received the fleet moved on, leaving the garrison troops to control the captive populace and to instruct them in the coming of the new order.

It was time to bring the General in.

Behind the spearhead of their western campaign came the sea going Leviathan transports, carrying extra troops to bolster the defense of the area. The military leader was due to be amongst them.

Sub-Jarl Krenhagz and his subordinate Gaiariaz took awaiting their leaders arrival. The sub-Jarl pulled off his helmet, watching the darkening eastern horizon. Bright dots in the gloom signaled the approach of the General's escort. Unlike most officers his age, Krenhagz did not have a beard. While having facial hair was not compulsory for officers it was expected as a mark of rank.

He was middle aged with a scar arching down below his left eye, a mark dealt to him during his training; a reminder that it's far better to be humble than cocky.

"Are you tired?" He asked, glancing back at his subordinate as she removed her helmet. Gaiariaz was a rare beauty in his eyes, with pale ivory skin and bright golden eyes; her dark hair short but collected at the back behind her pointed ears.

"No." She replied quickly but she did not say it with much conviction.

"You should be." Krenhagz said with a smile. "It's not very day one is in the first battle of a war, making the first footprint in enemy territory. Its natural to be a little fatigued, both physically and mentally." Gaiariaz put on an unimpressed frown. "And you are tired. I see it in your posture." She straightened her back in response, trying not to give away the fact that was indeed in need of rest. Being the only female officer in this regiment she could not afford to show weakness.

She knew Krenhagz was not trying to seek out weakness in her, but instead to offer relief. He was one of the few who treated her with relative kindness other than cold disdain.

Still, he didn't pick his moments of charitable behavior very well.

There was a short gust of wind as the air ships descended to the ground, firing several jets of steams. When the carrier was about a few feet from the ground it hovered and the crew cast out anchoring hooks.

The soldiers on the ground set about securing these and once the ship was anchored it descended to the ground with a soft thud. The gangplank was lowered and the doors to the ships interior shunted open with a hiss.

"General Kraganolac, you honor us with your presence." Krenhagz stated, bowing his head low at the figure that strode forth.

This was the first time Gaiariaz had beheld the general and for a brief moment she forgot the customary bow. Despite being well above a hundred years old he looked surprisingly young. Hardly a wrinkle ceased his face and his thick traditional beard was without a single hint of grey.

He was clad in full armour, expertly polished with a flowing aqua blue cape drifting out behind him attached from the shoulders. A reinforced claymore sword was at tapped to his back, the hilt projecting just above the top of his neck.

"Ho, Krenhagz. Your reception is most heart warming on this; the most joyous of occasions." The general said as he reached the bottom of the gangplank. "It is I who am honored to meet the man who led our return to Tamriel."

"I am but a solider who knows how to fight." Krenhagz said in reply. "The city is under control. The populace is contained and awaiting your discretion." Gaiariaz could see Krenhagz was spooning it on a bit thick. He wanted promotion and the only way he could get that in his position was by flattering and sometimes even bribing the higher ups.

The general glanced past him to the scene of the captured city. The walls were broken in several places, rubble strewn across the ground with smoke rising from the many buildings still burning inside.

"Much has changed." He remarked glancing around at the rubble strewn streets. "This is indeed Mournhold, but not the Mournhold depicted in the ancestral archives."

"I took the literately to confiscated some reading material from book stores and the like." Krenhagz stated. "From them I have learnt much about the changes that have taken place since the exodus.

The Mournhold our people knew was destroyed by the Daedra prince Mehrunes Dagon during, what they call, the second era.

Two of the Tribunal banished Dagon back to Oblivion but their city was devastated beyond repair. New Mournhold was built on top of its ruins."

Kraganolac put a hand to his chin, running his fingers through his short beard in deep thought.

"It has a certain 'Akaviri' charm to it. Did it put up much resistance?"

"As much as we expected, but once the battle was over I had to reprimand several officers who had their soldiers killing Dunmer." The General put on a very serious face.

"Send those officers to me. I'll not have them giving our cause a bad name with that kind of foolishness."

"Yes sir."

"Have you found the entrance to the Karstangz-Bcharn yet?" He asked, looking up with a more intent look in his eyes. Krenhagz nodded.

"Yes sir, but we're having trouble getting through to the machinery. The old Centurions are active and they do not seem capable of following out commands any more. Its slowing our progress down."

"Well as long as SOME progress is being made. There are more important things which need our direct attention. The air-ship fleet should be reaching their deployment stages by now, correct?"

"Yes sir. By now the armada will be reaching the Cyrodiil border. Intelligence says that the Ayleids what once held sway there have long since faded into obscurity and men now reign. They have a large army but technologically it is not capable of withstanding."

"More or less what we anticipated isn't it?" Kraganolac asked looking a little smug. "Very well. I'll have a word with the royal family and then I leave the city and its people in your capable hands. I think you'll know what to do with it. I'll be leaving for Cyrodiil front line at first light tomorrow morning.

The Dark Dragon will not be far behind me Krenhagz, so it would be wise to have everything ready upon his arrival." Krenhagz snapped to attention in response with a salute. "Dismissed."

"Sir, yes sir."

The general marched off followed by his bodyguards were he proceeded to his commandeered quarters in the Royal Palace.

Krenhagz dismissed the honorary guard he had assembled and once they were gone, he relaxed a little; letting his shoulder droop unprofessionally.

"Why did you stop those officers?" Gaiariaz asked out load once the others were out of earshot. "They were just doing their duty as decreed in the book of Kagrenac."

"I stopped them because our cause is restoration, not revenge." The sub-Jarl replied bluntly. "What sort of message are we sending potential servants if our first act upon returning to Tamriel is the massacre of an entire race?"

"And so your policy is to allow the descendants of Veloth to escape the justice we were promised by the Dark Dragon himself?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. Krenhagz smiled grimly.

"Nothing of the sort. Reparation will be made as the general orders, the Dunmer will be the first to bend their knees.

Don't you consider subjugating them far better a reward than exterminating them?"

Gaiariaz looked him over with a stern look on her face then turned away, folding his arms in front of her chest.

"Something tells me there's an issue bothering you." Krenhagz added with a raised eyebrow.

"It's just so different." She almost whispered without looking at him. "Even the book of Kagrenac never described it this much detail. Akavir was beautiful but Tamriel… Tamriel seems so much more… alive while the Void was so dead." She looked up towards the sky and the two moons just visible.

"We spent our lives in that abyss." Krenhagz agreed. "Sometimes I fear going to sleep, for I might wake up and find all this a dream and I still reside in that endless twilight beyond the Principalities."

"I wake up in a cold sweat sometimes as well." She sighed, then held herself rigid as Krenhagz placed his check up against hers.

"Oh? I hadn't noticed." There was a soft metallic blank as his armour pressed up against hers. "The sweat seemed quite warm to me."

"Not out here." She muttered, turning a sharp shade of pink trying to loosen the grip his hands had on her. "If we're observed…"

"For all your social stealth you haven't that much in the way of common sense." Krenhagz whispered, his breath on her ear. "It'll come out one way or another. It might keep those other officers from trying to grope you."

"I think you're the one with the lack of common sense." She replied, placing her hand long her cheek and holding him close to her for a single moment of intimacy.

"Sir Jarl!" A voice declared and the two of them separated as if the moment had never existed. A foot soldier was running to meet them. He saluted with one hand before he addressed Krenhagz directly. "Somebody teleported magically into the Mournhold Palace. There's been some fighting and we've got wounded."

"Round up some more men and I'll met you there." Krenhagz told him. The solider saluted again and ran off. "Keep that smile on your face for me will you?" He asked, winking back as her before racing off.

Gaiariaz watched him go. As he disappeared behind a corner she removed her helmet from the clip on her belt and placed it over her head.


	7. Chapter 6

"Are you alright friend?" Henri asked giving the Dark Elf a strange look as they approached the Imperial Settlement of Riverbridge. "You look awfully pale." Ralphin blinked and reached into his pocket for the piece of reflective glass he kept there.

Looking at his reflection he saw that the Nord was indeed correct. His complexion did appear quite strained. It was the first signs of the re-emerging hunger. The vampires of Cyrodiil could hide their un-dead visage if their appetite was sated. The longer they went without blood, the more vampire like they appeared.

"I am merely fatigued." He replied. "I will be fine given a good nights rest." Briefly, he considered attempting to feed on the Barbarian. The idea was banished as soon as it came to light. Ralphin found Nord blood to be a trifle narcotic.

Riverbridge was a small settlement nestled behind a stretch of grassy knolls east of the Seloth River. Travelers who could not afford to travel further than this into the wilderness could pay for the local Mages Guild to magically transport them across great distances to the far eastern parts of Morrowind.

With the bay about to break, feeling the need to sleep away from the presence of Sunlight, Ralphin could see this was the best option. There was still a few hours of the night left. A teleportation was instantaneous and finding a suitable placed to stay for the daylight hours would probably not prove difficult in a city of Mournhold's size.

"Say friend, how would you like to earn some extra gold?" He asked as they came to a stop at the settlement's entrance. Balion pushed the door to the carriage open and stepped outside, stopping long enough to stretch himself and yawn.

"Who doesn't?" Henri asked with a broad grin. The long walk through the night had done wonders to sober him up and after a while he had stopped slurring his speech and stumbling each five steps.

"Well I'm in need of a bodyguard until find a room in Mournhold."

"Oh no!" Henri cut him right off. "With whatever that thing is off the shores I'll not be heading east for a long time."

"You needn't venture outside the city walls and as soon as my business is finished, you can return." Ralphin assured him. "I'll even pay for the return trip." He produced another leather purse cell of Septims and waved it in front of his face.

Ralphin had sensed that underlying all his drunken staggering was an almost pirate love of gold. The trait wasn't present in all Nords but certainly in those who took an overzealous love of Mead.

"Do we need him to come with us?" Balion asked in a side whisper as the Nord counted the gold he was handed..

"Something feels wrong." The vampire replied quite warily. "I can't explain it; it's like a sudden sickness in the air.

Until I figure out what it is I'd like him close at hand. He seems fairly skilled with an axe."

"Oh you noticed." The priest muttered.

"I don't where you're getting all this gold from." Henri remarked without looking at them. "But it's enough. I'll accompany you to the city but only until you find your own lodgings but after that, I'm on my way."

The Riverbridge Mages Guild was a small cottage style building behind the town hall. The only Mage there was a short Breton who was half buried under a large collection of tomes and alchemic equipment.

"Good, someone going to Mournhold at last." The Mage remarked when they approached him. He had rings under his eyes showing he hadn't slept all night. "I haven't had a single person coming from the city for hours and I'm expecting delivery of a shipment of Nirnroot.

When you get there can you ask them what in the name of Oblivion are they playing at? I'd go myself but I've a deadline with the Arcane University to meet." They ignored the Breton's ramblings and moved onto the platform.

The Mages stood before them and held his arms into the air, uttering a spell incantation and making elaborate signs in the air with his hands.

The spell took hold and the three of them were removed from their places in corporeal space and cast into the ether. Their destination specified their bodies rematerialized miles away from where they had started, emerging out into the world of mundus. The moment they did it was clear all was not well.

Three soldiers were standing there in front of them, armed with bronze weapons of a kind none of them had yet before seen.

"Hands in the air!" One of them stated loudly from behind the visor of a bronze helmet.

Balion complied instantly

Ralphin's hands lanced through the air, drawing arcane runes and unleashing a spell before any of them could react. Their projectile weapons were hurled out of their hands by telekinesis, leaving them unarmed and stunned for the mere second the vampire needed.

Reaching into his clothes he withdrew a pair of throwing daggers and let them fly forward, the blades slamming with a crunch into their foreheads, piercing the armor, skull and brain. As their bodies collapsed to the floor with blood gushing out of their wounds, Ralphin leapt forward and sank his fangs into the exposed neck of the remaining guard.

Unable to fight back the ambusher gargled, blood foaming to his mouth as Ralphin drained him dry.

"By Ysmir!" Henri gasped. "You… you're a vampire!"

Ralphin ignored him and continued to feed, drawing on the life blood of his victim. His pale appearance seemed to instantly vanish, his skin growing rosier and his cheekbones less pronounced.

Finished, he let go of the armored solider before reached up and sharply cracking the head to the side breaking the neck. Balion simply tried not to look.

The body collapsed to the ground with a loud clanking of metal plates. Ralphin whipped the blood from his lips with the back of his sleeve, his youthful and energetic face now completely restored.

The mages Guide transport chamber had been wrecked. The walls had scorch marks across them, fires ragged across the fallen piles of books and equipment and now several bodies were added to the collection of debris.

"Stay back you unholy beast." Henri declared holding out his axe.

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already." Ralphin told him. "And put down the axe. You try to hurt me with that and I'd break your neck before you took too steps." He glanced down at the limp body lying there before him. "As it is I've other things to take care of."

Ralphin reached down and grasped the helmet underneath the chin.

"What are you doing?" Balion asked

"Taking off the helmet." The vampire said with a smile. "I tasted it in their blood. It was neither man or Mer and it certainly wasn't Orc, Argonian of Khajiit. I want to see precisely…" The helmet slipped off and as soon as the face was revealed, Ralphin dropped the armor piece in utter surprise.

The pointed ears and pale skin foretold the characteristics of an elfin species. What really gave it away was the thick, jet black triangular beard and thick ponytail.

"By Akatosh!" Balion declared. Anyone who had spent any amount of time studying magic within the realms of the Guild had had the opportunity to study the artifacts taken from ancient ruins scattered across Tamriel in both the East and the West.

It was from these relics that one was able to put a name to the body of the elf.

"Impossible…" Ralphin breathed.

There was a loud shuffling noise and more bronze armored soldiers burst in through the door leading into the room.

Seeing them, an instinctive reaction came over the vampire. He drew his lips back and bared his fangs; the pupils of his ears turning into reptilian silts.

"Dwemer!" He snarled before leaping at them.

* * *

-

The similarities were not lost on Mai. She could see how the two circumstances mirrored each other. Here she was, once more, walking through a makeshift encampment with the wounded and the dying huddled together for warmth.

Just like at Kvatch.

She had not been there when Daedra, acting on behalf of Mehrunes Dagon, attacked the city but she had witnessed its terrible aftermath. Hundreds of people had been slain and left to rot in the streets while the buildings burned. Those who made it out alive were broken, their will quieted and their spirits near snuffed out.

And this was precisely what she saw here now.

A few scattered people had been able to make it down into the Mournhold sewers as the invading army laid siege. When the sewers themselves were no longer safe, the refugees descended further underground to the ruins of Old Mournhold. Finding an old plaza district with a high roof they sheltered there.

Most of those here were Dunmer. The elves were terrified out of their lives and for good reason. These new invaders showed their race no mercy, rounding up any Dark elf they got their hands on and executing them.

The cavern roof over the ancient bazaar was covered with jagged stalactites dripping water, hitting the cowed heads like rain. Cave moss covered the walls, projecting their own subterranean pale green light.

This was a quiet moment; d unique chance for those who had survived to take stock of this new situation. Most here simply preferred to sit there with their head almost between their knees praying to whatever deity they recognized.

"Yes…" Mai muttered. "Exactly like Kvatch."

A loud scream of pain broke her thoughts and Mai turned her attention back to the Mages.

Their leader, the woman Barcius was being pinned down to stone slab by her fellow Mages as she was writhing in agony and capable of doing to herself some considerable harm.

"Rope!" Mai told them. "Keep her arms and legs from thrashing about!" Rope was easy enough to find in the makeshift shelter, but keeping Barcius still long enough to use it proved more difficult. It took five of them simply to overpower her as the Imperial woman was a lot physically stronger than she appeared.

Once this was finished they got a clear look of the wounds in her shoulder and left leg. Deep injuries caved inwards from the impact of the strange projectile weapons, blood staining her robe.

Their healer cut the robe away to expose the skin. It was blackened around the entry points and there was simply too much blood to see the embedded projectiles.

"Her wounds are deep." Their healer muttered almost angrily looking the injuries over one by one. He was a bosmer with tired brown eyes and a spiky outcrop of white hair. "The projectiles have been stopped by the bone. They'll have to be removed before we can attempt any healing.""

He turned to look.

"Bring me tongs… pliers, anything I can use." An Argonian mage quickly disappeared to see if there was a blacksmith amongst the refugees. While they went off, the healer set to work with a mortar and a retort.

He swiftly made a numbing potion and applied it directly to the wounds. Barcius screamed, arching her back with tears running down the side of her face. Eventually she settled back down and this time looked more comfortable.

"That will clear infection and numb the pain." The Healer explained. "It should give us time to remove the projectiles.

Mai knew a few healing spells but with the invaders nullifying Magicka they were worthless. Feeling low she turned away and sat down nearby, leaning on her arms as the healer continued his work.

Feeling the star in her pocket she took it out and gazed at it. The gem's glow was gone but its inner light was still there. Has Azura known this was going to happen? Was that why she had given her the star?

Mai glanced up towards the small encampment where she had left Swift. The young Argonian was sitting exactly where she had put him down; his head hung low and his tail curved around him.

Loosing his adopting parents in such a manner must inspire pain the likes of which she could only estimate. She got up and crossed over. He made absolutely no sign of emotion as the Imperial woman stood before him. He simply sat there rigid. She sat down beside him and nestled herself close.

"I never knew who my parents where." Mai told him. "I don't know if that's worse than loosing ones you know you have but…" She paused to give him a look. He was desperately trying not to display emotion but the tears were beginning to bubble in his silted eyes. "I promise I won't let anyone harm you." She put a hand on his shoulder and giving way he leant on her sniffling.

For some reason that she could not understand Mai felt connected to this small reptilian. It was a deep feeling of belonging that she had only experienced with one other person before. It was painful to endure as it reminded her of all she had lost but having it again, even if perhaps for a moment, was enough to last her a life time.

There was a soft thud as someone else sat down beside her. Glancing up, she saw the handsome self styled ladies man Balthazar. His long mahogany hair was ruffled and he had scraps along his arms where his fancy clothes had been torn but apart from that he appeared none the worse for were.

He breathed in sharply through his nose before letting it out in a long sigh.

"Well I can safely say I've had better days." He remarked, brushing some of his long hair back into place. He brandished his staff forward in his left hand. Chipped marks in the wood showed where it had been used as a shield more than once. "Especially since magicka didn't seem to want to work and I had to rely on this. Enchantment charge burnt out. Can't even fire a spark, let alone a bolt of lightning."

Mai simply nodded.

"Strange how direct magic doesn't seem to work but enchanted items do."

"I know some spells that could do real damage." Balthazar muttered in annoyance. "Roasted them alive by the score if I could have used them." He lost his demeanour and smiled, leaning back against the hard and wet ground.

"I heard how you led those Mages down here and helped them topple that machine."

"That was the lady over there." Mai remarked, looking over to the stone were the other Mages were gathered around Barcius. "Her staff had a telekinesis spell on it."

Balathazar looked down at his own custom made weapon.

"Why didn't I think of that?" He asked no one in particular out load. "Still, you manage to survive and to rescue so many.

"The stories they told about you were true." He put his hands behind his head, using his staff as a pillow. "Strong, beautiful, determined and yet at the same time gentle and compassionate.

The great Gate Closer of Cyrodiil." Mai's eyes leapt open and she stared down at him. The Breton widening his grin showing his teeth. "Why, it must be fate that has drawn you here, to this city, just as it was invaded."

"You knew me the minute we met didn't you?" She asked. Balthazar gave a faint toss of his hand with an unspoken confirmation. "Who are you?"

"Balthazar is my real name." He replied. "But as you can guess, I'm not just a member of the Mages Guild.

I'm actually an agent of the Blades; Captain Balthazar is my full title, my good champion." He apologized with a short shrug of his shoulders. "I was sent here by the Elder Council to investigate the sightings of strange craft along the eastern Morrowind coastline and the possibility of an imminent invasion from Akavir.

Bumping into you was, I assure you, a pure coincidence."

"So you did recognize me." She sighed looking furlong.

"Odds are just about every Blade in the Imperial service knows who you are." Balthazar stated. "You shouldn't be so upset about it. It's an asset to be so well known."

"For me, no its not." She muttered.

Barcius suddenly let out a louder cry of pain and Mai pulled herself up. She stopped when she found Swift still holding onto her.

"Please don't leave me." He sniffed. She couldn't argue with him. She simply lifted him up and placed him on her shoulders. He didn't weight very much and he kept so quiet he was entirely possible to forget that he was there.

Balthazar managed to hoist himself up as well, reaching back and clipping the staff into its sheath.

"I know a few healing tips and tricks." He assured Mai in an overly confident voice.

The healer was panicking. As if triggered by some new injury, fresh blood was pouring from the wounds to drip down over her body to cover the stone. The ropes holding her were beginning to stain red.

"She's loosing too much blood." The healer remarked with wide eyes as he hovered over the bleeding woman with a pair of tongs. "I have to get those projectiles out now but I can't with so much blood in the way."

"We're going to have to risk healing." Another mage spoke up. "There's no other way."

"I do have this." Balthazar stated, reaching into his torn shirt and withdrawing an amulet. The locket was gold with twine thread and a small emerald in the centre. "Personally enchanted, powerful healing properties. Perhaps it can help." The trinket was snatched away by one of the mages almost instantly and held at the ready.

"We can't risk healing magic." Mai insisted. "If her wounds close with the projectiles still inside her body the resulting infection will kill her."

"If we don't do something the bleeding is what's going to kill her!" The mage angrily replied smacking a fist down on the side of the stone slab.

"Kreshweed." A voice stated from behind them.

Mai, Balthazar and the Mages looked back to see a Nord youth standing behind them. He looked just about on the verge of adulthood with long blonde hair down to his waist. Despite being so young he was incredibly well built.

He was naked from the waist up with a pair of rough clothe pants below.

"Vvardenfell Kreshweed mixed with Nirnroot and Cliff Racer plumes.

Clots up the blood. It'll stop the bleeding long enough to remove any arrow or bolt. It will also numb her so much she won't be able to feel a thing." He told them confidently.

The Bosmer Healer blinked before smacking his hand to his forehead.

"Of course! Kreshweed fortifies health while Nirnroot dispels and counteracts! The cliff Racer plumes…"

"Save us the alchemy lesson." Balthazar cut in. "Do you actually 'have' those items?" Even before he'd finished speaking the healer was already rummaging around in his satchel for them. He pulled out the desired ingredients within moments.

"Nirnroot first." The Nord told him. "Grind into a powder before doing the same with the Cliff Racer plumes, then boil the Kreshweed with some water and add the grindings. Once it cools apply to the affected areas."

With the help of the various magical trinkets the Mages had, carrying out his instructions did not take long. One cooled the liquid became a paste and the Bosmer healer applied it gingerly to the wounds.

The affect was amazing. Barcius hissed once at the touch but after that her body relaxed and she stopped struggling. The blood from the wounds stopped pumping forth, at least long enough for the mages to mop it out of the way so the tongs could be used to remove the projectiles inside.

Barcius was barely conscious as the first one, the hit she had taken to the shoulder, was removed.

"My word." The healer remarked, holding up the bloody object for them all to see.

These projectiles were not like bolts or arrowheads. They were round, pellet shaped pieces of metal stained black leaving behind a residue.

"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Balthazar asked. The Bosmer shook his head with curiosity brimming in his eyes.

"No… no I have not." He dropped the object into the hand of another Mage. "The council will want to examine these so let's keep hold of them."

With the numbing potion applied, Barcius did not squire or even cringe in discomfort as the round metal objects were pulled out of her. The mages collected these one by one until the Healer was satisfied he had removed them all.

The final one had lodged itself between her ribs and removing it took some precision as the slightest slip might prove fatal. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the healer worked.

Then the moment past and the last pellet was removed. As soon as the healer's hands were clear, the healing amulet was activated. Balthazar apparently was an expert enchanter.

His amulet unleashed a restorative magicka Mai had never before seen contained in a physical item. The wounds began to heal; the skin and flesh pulling together. Some of the lost color returned to her face and whatever pain was left in her expression faded.

"You know your alchemy boy." The Bosmer told the Nord. "When I get back to Cyrodiil I might recommend you to the Arcane University. What's your name?"

"Njordr and that's alright." The youth replied. "I simply don't like seeing anybody suffer when I can prevent it."

Barcius pushed her eyes open, blinked once before looking to the side. Even with the sweat flooding into her eyes she instantly recognized Njordr.

"You…" She hissed through her teeth at him struggling to free herself "Demon! Hound!"

"This boy's alchemic knowledge just saved your life, Barcius." Mai told her. "If I were in your place I'd show a little gratitude."

"You don't understand." She barked. "He's a werewolf!"

The mages all turned in one body to look at Njordr. The boy, who had anticipated this situation, was holding the remains of a large iron axe over one shoulder.

"Are you?" Balthazar asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't like to brag about it." The nord youth replied with a great deal of feigned innocence in his voice. "But does anyone here have a problem with this little detail?" He hefted the axe down and held it tight in a hostile pose.

"Er… no…" Balthazar stated quickly.

"Wise choice." Without another word he walked of.

"Why are you letting him go?" Barcius demanded. "He's a monster. If he can not be contained then he must be destroyed!"

Mai watched the boy go. Her eyes studied him intently before she smiled.

"He's no monster and certainly no threat." Barcius glared up at her. "What I don't understand is where all this hate is coming…"

"My parents were at Kvatch!" She cried out in a moment of despair. Everyone suddenly went quiet. Even Njordr stopped in mid stride just within hearing distance. "They killed her! They killed my mother!" Mai stood there feeling numb, remembering all too well the blood, mud and rubble cast amongst the flames set by the Daedra.

So that was it, Njordr thought to himself. That was reason she so zealously hunted Daedra and Daedric related beasts, stuffing them into cages. Vengeance.

"But I was not." Njordr remarked without looking back. Barcius stared him down before looking away partly in shame but mostly in anger.

Mai just looked down at the mage and maintained the illusion of a smile. "I was at Kvatch as well and I see no reason to hate this boy, who has never visited the city, for its destruction."

"He's a hound." Barcius argued. "A Daedra!"

"He looks human enough to me." Mai replied. "Besides, blaming ALL Daedra for the actions of a few is exactly the same as accusing all Dark Elves of mistreatment against Argonians." Barcius opened her mouth by Mai cut her off. "I understand the need for revenge, but not against those who do not deserve it." Barcius did not reply to that. She simply lay there trying to chock back tears.

Njordr wandered away until he came to the entrance of a small tunnel entrance half concealed behind some jagged rocks. Crouching in the shadows, resting its overtaxed body, was the Daedroth he had helped to escape the Mages and its own destruction when the city was attacked.

"After the way she treated you…" Xilal muttered without looking directly at him when the Nord clambered nearly, his bare feet catching remarkable hold on the slippery jagged rocks. "You actually helped them save her? I'd have torn her to pieces the first chance I had."

"I don't take Human, Elven or Beastfolk life." The youth replied.

"What of Daedra?" Xilal asked, his scaly lips pushing into an ironic smile.

"I haven't made my mind up about them." Xilal looked amused for a moment before his gloomy expression returned. "Something wrong?" Njordr asked.

"I have this strange feeling near the top of my waist." The Daedroth replied, shifting his large body to get more comfortable. "It's been growing stronger for about the past few minutes."

Njordr made a confused expression.

"You mean you don't know what that is?" He asked in surprise. "That's hunger."

"Hunger?" Xilal repeated as the Nord brought forth the paper wrapped package he had underneath one arm.

"Here." The Daedroth looked down at the wrapped parcel of meat the Nord was offering him. It was lightly roasted with a crisp golden shine to it. "There's a butcher down here passing around rations. You can have mine I'm not hungry. I'm told Guar Meat is nice."

"Daedra do not hunger." Xilal stated. Almost cutting him off, his stomach gave a loud growl.

"Well perhaps when connected to Oblivion and your prince you don't." Njordr remarked with a short grin. "I read a few books on the subject in an abandoned fort and I think while in Oblivion, at least the realm of your prince, your essence is maintained through energy.

Since you're here and you exist in a physical body… you have to gain that energy through different means."

"Eat…. like a disgusting flesh and blood organism?" The Daedroth nearly spat.

"You had to taken on flesh and blood to get here, so that makes you as much a flesh and blood 'organism' as I am." Xilal did not like the grin on the Nord's face all. Njordr simply offered the item forward again. The Daedroth stared at it with a scrutinizing glare before he snatched it up with a claw and shoveled it into his mouth. The serrated teeth helped to rip the meat apart into small chunks that were easier for his reptilian form to devour and digest.

"I guess it'll probably get easier with practice." Njordr commented; looking at the sloppy way the meat was consumed. Taking the small part he had saved for him, Njordr sat down nearby and chewed on the meat.

"What I don't understand about you Daedra is that bloodlust you have." He commented as Xilal snapped down the last of his share. "I can see you're not the demons the Imperial church would have you portrayed as… so why the brutality?"

"We are not all the same." Xilal replied softly . "More than often, the Denizens of Oblivion follow the example of their Prince.

The Golden Saints are as Mad of Sheogorath. The Winged Twilights have the grace of Azura herself and of course, the Dremora's and rouge Daedra in Lord Mehrunes Dagon's service are destructive." He shifted his large reptilian body in a more comfortable position, sweeping the tail around in front of his legs as if he were trying to converse warmth.

"Mehrunes Dagon has been my patron for as long as I can remember. He taught me, trained me, empowered me. I owe everything I am to him and so I proudly lead some of his soldiers to war through into Tamriel."

"What sort of Patron abandons his men?" Njordr asked stubbornly.

Xilal hissed out through his nostrils, staring the Nord in the face with his large teeth exposed.

"Easy, I didn't mean anything by that." The Nord added, lifting his hands defensively. "I just mean now that you're separated from his realm, what will you do now?"

"What else can I do?" The Deadra asked looking annoyed. "Everyone I can do must be done to avoid destruction for without that link I am certain of death."

Njordr however did not appear to be too phased by this.

"It'll be something you'll have to live with." He remarked. "Take mortal men for example. They know from the moment they are born that eventually they will expire and die, yet they live their lives without fear none the less."

"That trait has been something Daedra have pondered over for eons." Xilal stated. "We, immortal and wise beyond the centuries, can not understand why the minds and hearts of mortals are not constantly awash with despair."

"I suppose you'll find out soon enough."

* * *

-

Allowing herself some time to rest her eyes, Mai was swept off by her own fatigue to an extremely deep sleep. For a few moments at least she felt herself floating in a blissful state of nothingness. Then that period was angrily interrupted as something grabbed a hold of her essence and brought her into the midst of darkness.

The sudden change forced Mai to glance around, the air around her hot yet nothing but eternal darkness stretching for as far as the eye could see.

"I offered you a choice, champion." That same voice stated. "And now you must pay for your stubbornness." The darkness seemed to lift and as it did, Mai could see it was not darkness but actually the jet black scales of the colossal creature she had seen before in her ryes. A gold and black dragon with wings that blocked the sky, casting its shadow across the land.

Mai was standing on the edge of an abyss from which this creature rose.

"Who are you?" She asked. "Tell me who you are!"

"I am one whose name is known and can never not be known." The dragon replied. "I am he who was betrayed. I am he whom the gods fear. I am the owner!"

"Just who are you?" Mai nearly screamed. "Tell me!"

A jet of steam hissed out the colossal nostrils, a geyser thousands of feet high as the eyes targeted her alone. In that instant, the undeniable feeling of scrutiny by a being of both immense power and immense presence settled on her. She felt as if she had the full and complete attention of a force beyond a god.

"I am the light in the stars." The voice echoed but the lips of the beast did not move. "I am the fire in the earth.

I am the Dragon that broke. I am Mother of the Aedra and Father of the Daedra.

The Earth-Bones are my bones. The Dragon-Blood is my blood. The moons are my flesh and my heart is the world." Slowly it drew itself up and reared up on its hind legs, the tips of its wings blocking out the sun itself and parting the clouds. "I am Lorkhan!"

The lost god. The god who was told of in all myths and legends; the labeled creator god responsible for the creation of the mortal world in one fashion or another. He was the god whom the Temple of the one had been built for.

He was that One.

"Stendaar! Mara! Dibella! I know you can hear me!" The dragon roared into the air, the ground beneath Mai's feet trembling in response. "Kynareth! Zenithar! Arkay! Juilanos! I have not forgotten. Shezarr has not forgotten! Shor has not forgotten!

And Akatosh! I will have my heart back!"


	8. Intermission 1

(I know this is a VERY short chapter… but I don't have time to work on it much more than this. Just to let you know this story is not dead.)

-

The Invasion and occupation of the various sites now commandeered had been meticulously planed, down to the last detail. Akavir had been chosen as the sight of their first attack as it was located away from their enemies and it gave them an opportunity to build up their forces in secret.

The attack upon Mournhold too had not been chosen at random either. It was a perfect strategic centre from which to command the rest of the operations. Once the city had been secured, the air-ship fleet had divided itself into two groups.

The smaller group would head directly north to the Island of Vvardenfell and secure their old citadel on the top of Red Mountain. The larger group would, at the same time, head west across the Veloth Mountains into Cyrodiil. They had orders not to open fire on settlements, merely to fly overhead in their mass as a display of strength. A few would wait above the Imperial City while the others would quickly disperse from the centre of Tamriel to cover the land.

Combat was to be avoided. The Empire was much more valuable to them intact than crumbling.

King Helseth had been prisoner along with his mother, the Queen Mother Barenziah. The royal court had been taken also, mostly intact, although several courtiers had tried to resist and regrettable they had to be put down.

"Well?" General Kraganolac asked, approaching the group of guards outside the room where the royalty were being held captive. The officer in charge saluted once snapping to attention.

"The kind and the Queen mother taken. No indication yet of the girl." He replied. Kraganolac scowled.

"Have you searched the entire palace?" He asked.

The officer nodded.

"Yes sir; and I'm afraid there is no sign of her. We'll continue searching."

Kraganolac barged past him.

"Don't bother. I'll ask her mother myself."

Helseth had been deprived of his crown, his royal robes and any and all jewellery he had. He had been given rags to wear and chains still decorated his ankles and wrists and the royal mother was not much better. Barenziah's gown had been torn from her and she been left almost naked apart from the few coverings she had been able to find.

Stuffed into the small room with them were several of the courtiers and nobles taken prisoner trying to escape the occupation.

They all looked like frightened and startled rodents when the door opened and the soldiers marched in, Kraganolac moving to the front. Helseth stood up unbidden, still bearing the look of defiance on his face that he had been wearing ever since he had been taken prisoner.

"My greetings Lord Helseth." Kraganolac started with an overdramatic sweep of his arms. "I trust the accommodations we have arranged for you are comfortable?" The room the twenty courtiers had all been crammed into was a small guest room at the back of the palace and barely large enough to hold them all.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Helseth asked bluntly.

"Straight onto business eh? No formalities?" Kraganolac replied sounding a little hurt. "Very well." The general straightened his back and reach behind his head, unclipping the brass clips at the back of his helmet. The visor swung forward, allowing him to pull his helmet off, exposing his pale, almost albino, face and black beard.

The courtiers staggered back at the sight and even Helseth himself seemed alarmed at the sight.

"I am General Kraganolac." He announced. "I….we… are Dwemer." He gestured to his armed escort to copy him. They too unclipped their helmets and pulled them off, exposing their faces to the alarmed captive Imperials and Dunmer. "As I'm certain a king of your prestige has guessed; the reports of our races demise have been gravely exaggerated."

"So it would seem." Helseth remarked straining to keep a straight face.

"Well now that's out of the way I think you and I should sit down and have a something of a friendly chat." Kraganolac past his helmet back to one of his men. "First of all I believe that some of my soldiers may have already expressed their…. Displeasure… about Morrowind's decision to become part of the human empire." Helseth absently placed a hand on the bruise he had suffered when he had been struck during his arrest.

"Setting aside the cultural and political differences between our peoples, both Dwemer and Dunmer see this land of the east as sacred.

Yet you allowed a human worm by the name of Tiber Septim to subdue this fair land. That is an act we all consider disgraceful." Kraganolac paused to gently brush some dirt off the side of his gauntlet. "Many of my people hold the Dunmer personally responsible for the Imperial Occupation of the land.

Many wish to see your entire race tried for war crimes. A trial which admittedly would end in a sentence of…" He paused for dramatic affect. "Genocide."

The hush that followed was pregnant with suspense.

"What do you want from me?" Helseth asked.

"Several things." Kraganolac replied holding up his fingers. "One, the complete and utter demilitarisation of Morrowind's standing armies in each house and the Ordinators of the Temple.

Two, jurisdiction and control of their provinces resources and wealth.

Three, political control of your government.

And four, information…"

That list have be devastating enough to Helseth's ego.

"Terrain knowledge so you can better enslave my people?" He asked coldly. Kraganolac chuckled lightly.

"Nothing so drool and commonplace." He replied. "You see…. I require the location of a certain… girl. Someone I believe you are familiar with." He looked the defeated king right in the eye. "Your sister."

The reaction of Helseth's face was tremendous. The look of defiance was transformed instantly to seething hatred.

"I will never... NEVER… tell you where Morgiah is!"

"Morgiah?" Kraganolac repeated raising an eyebrow. "Oh dear me, I'm afraid you have misunderstood. I am not looking for something as common as an escaped princess.

I am referring to your other sister."

"I have no other…" Helseth started but then froze in mid sentence, sudden realization coming into his eyes.

"Ah you must be Barenziah." Kraganolac started addressing the Queen mother.

"What do you want with her?" The Dark elf woman asked almost cutting him off.

"Mother, shhh." Helseth muttered.

Kraganolac crossed his arms behind his back and stepped forward.

"Personally… nothing. She is little to no military or strategic value. The Dark Dragon however expresses great interest in the daughter of Jagar Tharn." There was a soft murmuring around the capture courtiers that Helseth silenced with stern glare back over his shoulder.

"Now, would you be so kind as to tell me where I might find her?" Kraganolac words were civil but his tone was anything but.

"I can't do that." Helseth remarked in reply slowly.

"Really?" The general asked and suddenly his escort appeared a lot more menacing, their fingers tapping the outside of their projectile rifles in an intimidating fashion. "Are you sure?"

"I can't… meaning I do not know where she is." The dark elf king added. "When she was born she was given to a Cult worshiping the Daedra Prince Azura to be brought up as a priestess. During the Oblivion crisis, the order vanished; presumably fearing reprisal for worshiping a Daedra. Where she is now is anybodies guess."

Kraganolac did not appear pleased by this. His grim smile drooped into a frown and he slowly straightened his back and squared his shoulders.

He glanced at Barenziah for a second and read her face, as if trying to estimate if this was true. Receiving the confirmation he muttered something in Aldmerish and rolled his eyes.

"Very well." He said eventually. "Tell me the name of this cult."

"And why should I do that?" Helseth asked. Kraganolac looked him square in the eyes.

"Your majesty, your government has been toppled and we now own Morrowind. Your people still resist and as long as they do, they put themselves in harms way. Some may even ignore the terms of surrender and continue to fight. Those subjects I may not be able to save.

Such as a certain Dark Elven Princess who even as we speak, rides into Cyrodiil to petition to military aid from the Elder Council."

Helseth's eyes sparked with fear. Kraganolac regained his grim, gallows humour, smile.

"You have made your point." The king sighed after a moment or pregnant silence, accepting defeat. "The Cult was called the Order of the Rose Mother. It was based in Wayrest when she was born."

"Then Wayrest is where we will start looking." Kraganolac stated and bowed in head low, a few inches above the required angel to mock the defeated king. "Thank you for your time Sire."

"Wait!" Barenziah started before the Dwemer could leave. "Why doses your Dragon want her? What's he going to do to her?"

"I don't know and quite frankly I don't care." Kraganolac replied.

"And just what is the Dark Dragon? Who or what is he?" Helseth asked. The Dwemer general paused and widened his smile as if admitted to a private joke.

"You call him the Doom Drum."


End file.
